IN   THE    LEVANT 
BY   CHARLES    DUDLEY   WARNER 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PHOTOGRAVURES 

IN   TWO  VOLUMES 
VOLUME   I 


Cliarlcs  Dudley   ll'urner 


IN  THE  LEVANT 

BY  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER 

ILLUSTRATED    WITH 

PHOTOGRAVURES 

VOLUME   I 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 
HOUGHTON,   MIFFLIN   AND  COMPANY 
Wot  (fttoer0i&e  \2retf 

MDCCC  XCIII 


1293 
u.l 


Copyright,  1876, 
BY  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER 

Copyright,  1892, 
BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Iloughton  and  Company. 


TO 

WILLIAM  D.  HOWELLS 

THESE    NOTES    OF   ORIENTAL   TRAVEL 
ARE   FRATERNALLY  INSCRIBED 


PREFACE    TO    THE    ILLUSTRATED 
EDITION 

IN  turning  over  the  pages  of  In  the  Levant 
with  a  view  to  its  revision  for  the  present  illustrated 
edition,  I  am  reminded  that  it  was  written  seven- 
teen years  ago.  That  is  a  considerable  portion  out 
of  an  individual  life,  and  indeed  in  that  of  a  West- 
ern republic,  but  in  the  East  it  is  scarcely  the 
space  between  a  sleeping  and  a  waking.  Since  it 
was  written,  the  Russo-Turkish  war  has  been 
fought ;  philanthropy  and  fanaticism  have  again 
and  again  attempted  to  modernize,  or  to  restore 
to  the  ancient  ways,  the  hills  and  wildernesses 
of  Judea;  the  English  flag  has  been  planted  in 
Cyprus  ;  English  law,  arms,  and  manners  have 
encamped  in  Egypt ;  the  Sultan  has  been  mur- 
dered, the  Sultan  has  been  deposed  as  imbecile, 
the  Sultan  still  sits  in  his  seraglio,  lazily  watching 
his  iron-clads  in  the  Golden  Horn,  in  the  midst  of  a 
civilization  that  has  been  steadily  decaying  for  five 
hundred  years,  and  in  adding  all  the  Occidental 
vices  to  the  Oriental  immoralities,  and  assuming 


viii  PREFACE 

the  weight  of  modern  armaments  and  military  ex- 
pense, has  exhibited  the  endurance  that  once  made 
the  Turk  the  martial  terror  of  Europe.  That 
Turkey  as  a  political  factor  is  only  held  for  a  coun- 
ter in  the  game  that  jealous  rivals  are  playing  for 
the  possession  of  the  East  may  be  as  true  as  it 
was  when  Russia  made  her  first  movement  on 
Constantinople ;  but  so  long  as  the  head  of  the 
Moslem  faith  is  a  Turk,  so  long  must  he  be  con- 
sidered in  the  contact  of  modern  life  with  that 
still  aggressive  and  growing  religion,  with  its  al- 
most innumerable  populations  in  Central  Asia, 
India,  and  Africa. 

Changes  there  have  been  in  Palestine,  —  better 
roads,  better  hotels,  better  organizations  for  con- 
ducting the  steps  of  irreverent  sight-seers  among 
historic  ruins  the  commercial  value  of  which  the 
Orientals  appreciate ;  Constantinople  itself  has 
taken  new  steps  in  the  emancipation  of  its  women 
and  the  adoption  of  Frank  ways  ;  last  winter,  in 
Cairo,  I  found  an  enormous  superimposition  of  Eu- 
ropean life,  and  a  wonderful  change  in  the  admin- 
istration of  justice,  of  finance,  of  the  laying  and 
collection  of  taxes,  of  agricultural  production,  of 
improved  irrigation,  in  the  physical  well-being  of 
the  Fellaheen,  —  all  and  entirely  due  to  the  still  un- 
spent English  sense  of  duty  and  love  of  order,  and 
the  splendid,  conquering,  what  shall  I  call  it? — 


PREFACE  IX 

moral  egotism.  But  for  all  that,  the  Oriental  life, 
the  essential  current  of  an  existence  which  is  as 
strange  to  us  as  it  was  to  Herodotus,  still  holds  on 
its  way,  not  much  more  changed  in  its  character 
than  is  the  Mediterranean  by  the  modern  fleets  of 
war  and  commerce  which  vex  its  surface. 

There  is  much  that  I  might  add  to  this  record 
of  a  little  pilgrimage,  but  I  see  nothing  that  it  is 
worth  while  to  change.  In  Cairo,  I  entered,  in  the 
desolate  cemetery,  the  little  tomb-building  where 
lies  that  famous  dragoman  Mohammed  Abd-el-Atti, 
under  a  gorgeous  cenotaph  erected  by  his  widow. 
I  wondered  if  he  has  found  the  sort  of  Paradise  he 
expected.  Those  who  were  his  comrades  speak  of 
him  with  serious  respect,  in  a  low  voice,  as  having 
been  very  rich.  I  trust  he  still  is.  The  world  he 
delighted  in  is  very  much  as  he  left  it,  and  I  am 
sure  that  if  we  could  again  go  over  the  scenes  that 
his  shrewdness  and  sentiment  made  at  once  poetic 
and  comical,  I  should  be  as  much  disillusionized 

and  fascinated  as  I  was  before. 

C.  D.  W. 
HARTFORD,  May,  1892. 


PREFACE 

IN  the  winter  and  spring  of  1875  the  writer 
made  the  tour  of  Egypt  and  the  Levant.  The 
first  portion  of  the  journey  is  described  in  a  vol- 
ume published  last  summer,  entitled  "  My  Winter 
on  the  Nile,  among  Mummies  and  Moslems ;  "  the 
second  in  the  following  pages.  The  notes  of  the 
journey  were  taken  and  the  books  were  written 
before  there  were  any  signs  of  the  present  Ori- 
ental disturbances,  and  the  observations  made  are 
therefore  uncolored  by  any  expectation  of  the  ex- 
isting state  of  affairs.  Signs  enough  were  visible 
of  a  transition  period,  extraordinary  but  hopeful ; 
with  the  existence  of  poverty,  oppression,  supersti- 
tion, and  ignorance  were  mingling  Occidental  and 
Christian  influences,  the  faint  beginnings  of  a  re- 
vival of  learning,  and  the  stronger  pulsations  of 
awakening  commercial  and  industrial  life.  The 
best  hope  of  this  revival  was  then,  as  it  is  now,  in 
peace  and  not  in  war. 

C.  D.  W. 

HARTFORD,  November  10,  187G. 


CONTENTS 


I.  FROM  JAFFA  TO  JERUSALEM     . 

II.  JERUSALEM     ...... 

III.  HOLY  PLACES  OF  THE  HOLY  CITY  . 

IV.  NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM   . 
V.  GOING  DOWN  TO  JERICHO 

VI.  BETHLEHEM  AND  MAR  SABA 

VII.  THE   FAIR  OF  MOSES  ;     THE  ARMENIAN 

TRIARCH 

VIII.  DEPARTURE  FROM  JERUSALEM 

IX.  ALONG  THE  SYRIAN  COAST 

X.  BEYROUT.  —  OVER  THE  LEBANON 

XI.  BA'ALBEK 

XII.  ON  THE  ROAD  TO  DAMASCUS 

XIH.  THE  OLDEST  OF  CITIES     .... 

XIV.  OTHER  SIGHTS  IN  DAMASCUS 


PA- 


1 

38 

69 

94 

129 

174 

207 
218 
225 
234 
243 
255 
263 
282 


LIST  OF  PHOTOGRAVURES 


PAGE 

CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER Frontispiece 

JERUSALEM 34 

POOL  OF  SILOAM 46 

VIA  DOLOROSA 50 

CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  SEPULCHRE 7.0 

DAMASCUS  GATE 102 

OLIVE-TREE  IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  GETHSEMANE      .    .    .    .116 

BETHLEHEM 176 

CONVENT  OF  MAR  SABA 194 

NAZARETH 218 

RUINS  OF  THE  TEMPLE  OF  BAAL 246 

RUINS  OF  BA'ALBEK 252 


IN  THE  LEVANT 

I 

FROM  JAFFA  TO  JERUSALEM 

INGE  Jonah  made  his  short  and  igno- 
minious voyage  along  the  Syrian  coast, 
mariners  have  had  the  same  difficulty 
in  getting  ashore  that  the  sailors  ex- 
perienced who  attempted  to  land  the  prophet ;  his 
tedious  though  safe  method  of  disembarking  was 
not  followed  by  later  navigators,  and  the  landing 
at  Jaffa  has  remained  a  vexatious  and  half  the 
time  an  impossible  achievement. 

The  town  lies  upon  the  open  sea  and  has  no 
harbor.  It  is  only  in  favorable  weather  that  ves- 
sels can  anchor  within  a  mile  or  so  from  shore,  and 
the  Mediterranean  steamboats  often  pass  the  port 
without  being  able  to  land  either  freight  or  passen- 
gers. In  the  usual  condition  of  the  sea  the  big  fish 
would  have  found  it  difficult  to  discharge  Jonah 
without  stranding  itself,  and  it  seems  that  it  waited 
three  days  for  the  favorable  moment.  The  best 
chance  for  landing  nowadays  is  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, in  that  calm  period  when  the  winds  and  the 


2  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

waves  alike  await  the  movements  of  the  sun.  It 
was  at  that  hour,  on  the  5th  of  April,  1875,  that 
we  arrived  from  Port  Said  on  the  French  steamboat 
Erymanthe.  The  night  had  been  pleasant  and  the 
sea  tolerably  smooth,  but  not  to  the  apprehensions 
of  some  of  the  passengers,  who  always  declare  that 
they  prefer,  now,  a  real  tempest  to  a  deceitful 
groundswell.  On  a  recent  trip  a  party  had  been 
prevented  from  landing,  owing  to  the  deliberation 
of  the  ladies  in  making  their  toilet ;  by  the  time 
they  had  attired  themselves  in  a  proper  manner 
to  appear  in  Southern  Palestine,  the  golden  hour 
had  slipped  away,  and  they  were  Able  only  to  look 
upon  the  land  which  their  beauty  and  clothes  would 
have  adorned.  None  of  us  were  caught  in  a  like  de- 
linquency. At  the  moment  the  anchor  went  down 
we  were  bargaining  with  a  villain  to  take  us  ashore, 
a  bargain  in  which  the  yeasty  and  waxingly  uneasy 
sea  gave  the  boatman  all  the  advantage. 

Our  little  company  of  four  is  guided  by  the  phi- 
losopher and  dragoman  Mohammed  Abd-el-Atti, 
of  Cairo,  who  has  served  us  during  the  long  voyage 
of  the  Nile.  He  'is  assisted  in  his  task  by  the 
Abyssinian  boy  Ahman  Abdallah,  the  brightest 
and  most  faithful  of  servants.  In  making  his  first 
appearance  in  the  Holy  Land  he  has  donned  over 
his  gay  Oriental  costume  a  blue  Frank  coat,  and 
set  his  fez  back  upon  his  head  at  an  angle  exceed- 
ing the  slope  of  his  forehead.  His  black  face  has 
an  unusual  lustre,  and  his  eyes  dance  with  more  than 
their  ordinary  merriment  as  he  points  excitedly  to 
the  shore  and  cries,  "  Yafa  !  Mist'r  Dunham." 


THE   JAFFA    OF   ANTIQUITY  3 

The  information  is  addressed  to  Madame,  whom 
Ahman,  utterly  regardless  of  sex,  invariably  ad- 
dresses by  the  name  of  one  of  our  traveling  com- 
panions on  the  Nile. 

"Yes,  marm;  you  see  him,  Yafa,"  interposed 
Abd-el-Atti,  coming  forward  with  the  air  of  brush- 
ing aside,  as  impertinent,  the  geographical  infor- 
mation of  his  subordinate ;  "  not  much,  I  tink,  but 
him  bery  old.  Let  us  to  go  ashore." 

Jaffa,  or  Yafa,  or  Joppa,  must  have  been  a 
well-established  city,  since  it  had  maritime  deal- 
ings with  Tarshish,  in  that  remote  period  in  which 
the  quaint  story  of  Jonah  is  set,  —  a  piece  of  He- 
brew literature  that  bears  internal  evidence  of 
great  antiquity  in  its  extreme  naivete.  Although 
the  Canaanites  did  not  come  into  Palestine  till 
about  2400  B.  c.,  that  is  to  say,  about  the  time  of 
the  twelfth  dynasty  in  Egypt,  yet  there  is  a  rea- 
sonable tradition  that  Jaffa  existed  before  the 
Deluge.  For  ages  it  has  been  the  chief  Mediter- 
ranean port  of  great  Jerusalem.  Here  Solomon 
landed  his  Lebanon  timber  for  the  Temple.  The 
town  swarmed  more  than  once  with  the  Roman 
legions  on  their  way  to  crush  a  Jewish  insurrection. 
It  displayed  the  banner  of  the  Saracen  host  a  few 
years  after  the  Hegira.  And,  later,  when  the 
Crusaders  erected  the  standard  of  the  cross  on  its 
walls,  it  was  the  depot  of  supplies  which  Venice 
and  Genoa  and  other  rich  cities  contributed  to  the 
holy  war.  Great  kingdoms  and  conquerors  have 
possessed  it  in  turn,  and  for  thousands  of  years 
merchants  have  trusted  their  fortunes  to  its  peril- 


4  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

ous  roadstead.  And  yet  no  one  has  ever  thought 
it  worth  while  to  give  it  a  harbor  by  the  construc- 
tion of  a  mole,  or  a  pier  like  that  at  Port  Said.  I 
should  say  that  the  first  requisite  in  the  industrial, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  moral,  regeneration  of  Pal- 
estine is  a  harbor  at  Jaffa. 

The  city  is  a  cluster  of  irregular,  flat-roofed 
houses,  and  looks  from  the  sea  like  a  brown  bowl 
turned  bottom  up;  the  roofs  are  terraces  on  which 
the  inhabitants  can  sleep  on  summer  nights,  and 
to  which  they  can  ascend,  out  of  the  narrow,  evil- 
smelling  streets,  to  get  a  whiff  of  sweet  odor  from 
the  orange  gardens  which  surround  the  town.  The 
ordinary  pictures  of  Jaffa  do  it  ample  justice. 
The  chief  feature  in  the  view  is  the  hundreds  of 
clumsy  feluccas  tossing  about  in  the  aggravating 
waves,  diving  endwise  and  dipping  sidewise, 
guided  a  little  by  the  long  sweeps  of  the  sailors, 
but  apparently  the  sport  of  the  most  uncertain  bil- 
lows. A  swarm  of  them,  four  or  five  deep,  sur- 
rounds our  vessel ;  they  are  rising  and  falling  in 
the  most  sickly  motion,  and  dashing  into  each 
other  in  the  frantic  efforts  of  their  rowers  to  get 
near  the  gangway  ladder.  One  minute  the  boat 
nearest  the  stairs  rises  as  if  it  would  mount  into 
the  ship,  and  the  next  it  sinks  below  the  steps  into 
a  frightful  gulf.  The  passengers  watch  the  pass- 
ing opportunity  to  jump  on  board,  as  people  dive 
into  the  "lift"  of  a  hotel.  Freight  is  discharged 
into  lighters  that  are  equally  frisky;  and  it  is 
taken  on  and  off  splashed  with  salt  water,  and 
liable  to  a  thousand  accidents  in  the  violence  of 
the  transit. 


A   SHAKY    STAIRWAY  5 

Before  the  town  stretches  a  line  of  rocks  worn 
for  ages,  upon  which  the  surf  is  breaking  and 
sending  white  jets  into  the  air.  It  is  through  a 
narrow  opening  in  this  that  our  boat  is  borne  on 
the  back  of  a  great  wave,  and  we  come  into  a  strip 
of  calmer  water  and  approach  the  single  landing- 
stairs.  These  stairs  are  not  so  convenient  as  those 
of  the  vessel  we  have  just  left,  and  two  persons 
can  scarcely  pass  on  them.  But  this  is  the  only 
sea  entrance  to  Jaffa ;  if  the  Jews  attempt  to  re- 
turn and  enter  their  ancient  kingdom  this  way,  it 
will  take  them  a  long  time  to  get  in.  A  sea-wall 
fronts  the  town,  fortified  by  a  couple  of  rusty  can- 
non at  one  end,  and  the  passage  is  through  the 
one  gate  at  the  head  of  these  stairs. 

It  seems  forever  that  we  are  kept  waiting  at  the 
foot  of  this  shaky  stairway.  Two  opposing  cur- 
rents are  struggling  to  get  up  and  down  it :  excited 
travelers,  porters  with  trunks  and  knapsacks,  and 
dragomans  who  appear  to  be  pushing  their  way 
through  simply  to  show  their  familiarity  with  the 
country.  It  is  a  dangerous  ascent  for  a  delicate 
woman.  Somehow,  as  we  wait  at  this  gate  where 
so  many  men  of  note  have  waited,  and  look  upon 
this  sea-wall  upon  which  have  stood  so  many  of  the 
mighty  from  Solomon  to  Origen,  from  Tiglath- 
Pileser  to  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  the  historical 
figure  which  most  pervades  Jaffa  is  that  of  the 
whimsical  Jonah,  whose  connection  with  it  was  the 
slightest.  There  is  no  evidence  that  he  ever  re- 
turned here.  Josephus,  who  takes  liberties  with 
the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  says  that  a  whale  carried 


6  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

the  fugitive  into  the  Euxine  Sea,  and  there  dis- 
charged him  much  nearer  to  Nineveh  than  he 
would  have  been  if  he  had  kept  with  the  convey- 
ance in  which  he  first  took  passage  and  landed  at 
Tarsus.  Probably  no  one  in  Jaffa  noticed  the  lit- 
tle man  as  he  slipped  through  this  gate  and  took 
ship,  and  yet  his  simple  embarkation  from  the 
town  has  given  it  more  notoriety  than  any  other 
event.  Thanks  to  an  enduring  piece  of  literature, 
the  unheroic  Jonah  and  his  whale  are  better  known 
than  St.  Jerome  and  his  lion ;  they  are  the  earliest 
associates  and  Oriental  acquaintances  of  all  well- 
brought-up  children  in  Christendom.  For  myself, 
I  confess  that  the  strictness  of  many  a  New  Eng- 
land Sunday  has  been  relieved  by  the  perusal  of 
his  unique  adventure.  He  in  a  manner  antici- 
pated the  use  of  the  monitors  and  of  cigar-shaped 
submerged  sea-vessels. 

When  we  have  struggled  up  the  slippery  stairs 
and  come  through  the  gate,  we  wind  about  for 
some  time  in  a  narrow  passage  on  the  side  of  the 
sea,  and  then  cross  through  the  city,  still  on  foot. 
It  is  a  rubbishy  place ;  the  streets  are  steep  and 
crooked;  we  pass  through  archways,  we  ascend 
steps,  we  make  unexpected  turns ;  the  shops  are  a 
little  like  bazaars,  but  rather  Italian  than  Orien- 
tal ;  we  pass  a  pillared  mosque  and  a  Moslem  foun- 
tain ;  we  come  upon  an  ancient  square,  in  the  cen- 
tre of  which  is  a  round  fountain  with  pillars  and  a 
canopy  of  stone,  and  close  about  it  are  the  bazaars 
of  merchants.  This  old  fountain  is  profusely 
sculptured  with  Arabic  inscriptions ;  the  stones  are 


HOTEL    OF    THE   TWELVE    TRIBES  7 

worn  and  have  taken  the  rich  tint  of  age,  and  the 
sunlight  blends  it  into  harmony  with  the  gay  stuffs 
of  the  shops  and  the  dark  skins  of  the  idlers  on 
the  pavement.  We  come  into  the  great  market  of 
fruit  and  vegetables,  where  vast  heaps  of  oranges, 
like  apples  in  a  New  England  orchard,  line  the 
way  and  fill  the  atmosphere  with  a  golden  tinge. 

The  Jaffa  oranges  are  famous  in  the  Orient; 
they  grow  to  the  size  of  ostrich  eggs,  they  have  a 
skin  as  thick  as  the  hide  of  a  rhinoceros,  and,  in 
their  season,  the  pulp  is  sweet,  juicy,  and  tender. 
It  is  a  little  late  now,  and  we  open  one  golden 
globe  after  another  before  we  find  one  that  is  not 
dry  and  tasteless  as  a  piece  of  punk.  But  one 
cannot  resist  buying  such  magnificent  fruit. 

Outside  the  walls,  through  broad  dusty  high- 
ways, by  lanes  of  cactus  hedges  and  in  sight  again 
of  the  sea  breaking  on  a  rocky  shore,  we  come  to 
the  Hotel  of  the  Twelve  Tribes,  occupied  now  prin- 
cipally by  Cook's  tribes,  most  of  whom  appear  to 
be  lost.  In  the  adjacent  lot  are  pitched  the  tents 
of  Syrian  travelers,  and  one  of  Cook's  expeditions 
is  in  all  the  bustle  of  speedy  departure.  The 
bony,  nervous  Syrian  horses  are  assigned  by  lot  to 
the  pilgrims,  who  are  excellent  people  from  Eng- 
land and  America,  and  most  of  them  as  unaccus- 
tomed to  the  back  of  a  horse  as  to  that  of  an  os- 
trich. It  is  touching  to  see  some  of  the  pilgrims 
walk  around  the  animals  which  have  fallen  to  them, 
wondering  how  they  are  to  get  on,  which  side  they 
are  to  mount,  and  how  they  are  to  stay  on.  Some 
have  already  mounted,  and  are  walking  the  steeds 


8  FROM   JAFFA  TO   JERUSALEM 

carefully  round  the  inclosure  or  timidly  essaying 
a  trot.  Nearly  every  one  concludes,  after  a  trial, 
that  he  would  like  to  change,  —  something  not 
quite  so  much  up  and  down,  you  know,  an  easier 
saddle,  a  horse  that  more  unites  gentleness  with 
spirit.  Some  of  the  dragomans  are  equipped  in  a 
manner  to  impress  travelers  with  the  perils  of  the 
country.  One,  whom  I  remember  on  the  Nile  as 
a  mild  though  showy  person,  has  bloomed  here  into 
a  Bedawee:  he  is  fierce  in  aspect,  an  arsenal  of 
weapons,  and  gallops  furiously  about  upon  a  horse 
loaded  down  with  accoutrements.  This,  however, 
is  only  the  beginning  of  our  real  danger. 

After  breakfast  we  sallied  out  to  see  the  sights : 
besides  the  house  of  Simon  the  tanner,  they  are 
not  many.  The  house  of  Simon  is,  as  it  was  in 
the  time  of  St.  Peter,  by  the  seaside.  We  went 
upon  the  roof  (and  it  is  more  roof  than  anything 
else)  where  the  apostle  lay  down  to  sleep  and  saw 
the  vision,  and  looked  around  upon  the  other  roofs 
and  upon  the  wide  sweep  of  the  tumbling  sea.  In 
the  court  is  a  well,  the  stone  curb  of  which  is 
deeply  worn  in  several  places  by  the  rope,  showing 
long  use.  The  water  is  brackish;  Simon  may 
have  tanned  with  it.  The  house  has  not  probably 
been  destroyed  and  rebuilt  more  than  four  or  five 
times  since  St.  Peter  dwelt  here ;  the  Romans  once 
built  the  entire  city.  The  chief  room  is  now  a 
mosque.  We  inquired  for  the  house  of  Dorcas, 
but  that  is  not  shown,  although  I  understood  that 
we  could  see  her  grave  outside  the  city.  It  is  a 
great  oversight  not  to  show  the  house  of  Dorcas, 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   DEMOCRACY  9 

and  one  that  I  cannot  believe  will  long  annoy  pil- 
grims in  these  days  of  multiplied  discoveries  of 
sacred  sites. 

Whether  this  is  the  actual  spot  where  the  house 
of  Simon  stood,  I  do  not  know,  nor  does  it  much 
matter.  Here,  or  hereabouts,  the  apostle  saw  that 
marvelous  vision  which  proclaimed  to  a  weary 
world  the  brotherhood  of  man.  From  this  spot 
issued  the  gospel  of  democracy:  "Of  a  truth,  I 
perceive  that  God  is  no  respecter  of  persons." 
From  this  insignificant  dwelling  went  forth  the 
edjct  that  broke  the  power  of  tyrants,  and  loosed 
the  bonds  of  slaves,  and  ennobled  the  lot  of  wo- 
man, and  enfranchised  the  human  mind.  Of  all 
places  on  earth  I  think  there  is  only  one  more 
worthy  of  pilgrimage  by  all  devout  and  liberty- 
loving  souls. 

We  were  greatly  interested,  also,  in  a  visit  to 
the  well-known  school  of  Miss  Arnot,  a  mission 
school  for  girls  in  the  upper  chambers  of  a  house 
in  the  most  crowded  part  of  Jaffa.  With  modest 
courage  and  tact  and  self-devotion  this  lady  has 
sustained  it  here  for  twelve  years,  and  the  fruits 
of  it  already  begin  to  appear.  We  found  twenty 
or  thirty  pupils,  nearly  all  quite  young,  and  most 
of  them  daughters  of  Christians ;  they  are  taught 
in  Arabic  the  common  branches,  and  some  English, 
and  they  learn  to  sing.  They  sang  for  us  English 
tunes  like  any  Sunday-school;  a  strange  sound  in 
a  Moslem  town.  There  are  one  or  two  other 
schools  of  a  similar  character  in  the  Orient,  con- 
ducted as  private  enterprises  by  ladies  of  culture ; 


10  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

and  I  think  there  is  no  work  nobler,  and  none 
more  worthy  of  liberal  support,  or  more  likely  to 
result  in  giving  women  a  decent  position  in  East- 
ern society. 

On  a  little  elevation  a  half-mile  outside  the 
walls  is  a  cluster  of  wooden  houses,  which  were 
manufactured  in  America.  There  we  found  the 
remnants  of  the  Adams  colony,  only  half  a  dozen 
families  out  of  the  original  two  hundred  and  fifty 
persons ;  two  or  three  men  and  some  widows  and 
children.  The  colony  built  in  the  centre  of  their 
settlement  an  ugly  little  church  out  of  Maine  tim- 
ber ;  it  now  stands  empty  and  staring,  with  broken 
windows.  It  is  not  difficult  to  make  this  adven- 
ture appear  romantic.  Those  who  engaged  in  it 
were  plain  New  England  people,  many  of  them  ig- 
norant, but  devout  to  fanaticism.  They  had  heard 
the  prophets  expounded,  and  the  prophecies  of  the 
latter  days  unraveled,  until  they  came  to  believe 
that  the  day  of  the  Lord  was  nigh,  and  that  they 
had  laid  upon  them  a  mission  in  the  fulfillment  of 
the  divine  purposes.  Most  of  them  were  from 
Maine  and  New  Hampshire,  accustomed  to  bitter 
winters  and  to  wring  their  living  from  a  niggardly 
soil.  I  do  not  wonder  that  they  were  fascinated 
by  the  pictures  of  a  fair  land  of  blue  skies,  a  land 
of  vines  and  olives  and  palms,  where  they  were 
undoubtedly  called  by  the  Spirit  to  a  life  of  greater 
sanctity  and  considerable  ease  and  abundance.  I 
think  I  see  their  dismay  when  they  first  pitched 
their  tents  amid  this  Moslem  squalor,  and  at- 
tempted to  "squat,"  Western  fashion,  upon  the 


THE   ADVENT   COLONY  11 

skirts  of  the  Plain  of  Sharon,  which  has  been 
for  some  ages  preempted.  They  erected  houses, 
however,  and  joined  the  other  inhabitants  of  the 
region  in  a  struggle  for  existence.  But  Adams, 
the  preacher  and  president,  had  not  faith  enough 
to  wait  for  the  unfolding  of  prophecy ;  he  took  to 
strong  drink,  and  with  general  bad  management 
the  whole  enterprise  came  to  grief,  and  the  deluded 
people  were  rescued  from  starvation  only  by  the 
liberality  of  our  government. 

There  was  the  germ  of  a  good  idea  in  the  rash 
undertaking.  If  Palestine  is  ever  to  be  repeopled, 
its  coming  inhabitants  must  have  the  means  of  sub- 
sistence ;  and  if  those  now  here  are  to  be  redeemed 
to  a  better  life,  they  must  learn  to  work;  before 
all  else  there  must  come  a  revival  of  industry  and 
a  development  of  the  resources  of  the  country. 
To  send  here  Jews  or  Gentiles,  and  to  support 
them  by  charity,  only  adds  to  the  existing  misery. 

It  was  eight  years  ago  that  the  Adams  commu- 
nity exploded.  Its  heirs  and  successors  are  Ger- 
mans, a  colony  from  Wiirtemberg,  an  Advent  sect 
akin  to  the  American,  but  more  single-minded 
and  devout.  They  own  the  ground  upon  which 
they  have  settled,  having  acquired  a  title  from  the 
Turkish  government ;  they  have  erected  substantial 
houses  of  stone  and  a  large  hotel,  The  Jerusalem, 
and  give  many  evidences  of  shrewdness  and  thrift 
as  well  as  piety.  They  have  established  a  good 
school,  in  which,  with  German  thoroughness, 
Latin,  English,  and  the  higher  mathematics  are 
taught,  and  an  excellent  education  may  be  ob- 


12  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

tained.  More  land  the  colony  is  not  permitted  to 
own ;  but  they  hire  ground  outside  the  walls,  which 
they  farm  to  advantage. 

I  talked  with  one  of  the  teachers,  a  thin  young 
ascetic  in  spectacles,  whose  severity  of  countenance 
and  demeanor  was  sufficient  to  rebuke  all  the 
Oriental  levity  I  had  encountered  during  the  win- 
ter. There  was  in  him  and  in  the  other  leaders  an 
air  of  sincere  fanaticism,  and  a  sobriety  and  integ- 
rity in  the  common  laborers,  which  are  the  best 
omens  for  the  success  of  the  colony.  The  leaders 
told  us  that  they  thought  the  Americans  came  here 
with  the  expectation  of  making  money  uppermost 
in  mind,  and  hardly  in  the  right  spirit.  As  to 
themselves,  they  do  not  expect  to  make  money; 
they  repelled  the  insinuation  with  some  warmth; 
they  have  had,  in  fact,  a  very  hard  struggle,  and 
are  thankful  for  a  fair  measure  of  success.  Their 
sole  present  purpose  is  evidently  to  redeem  and 
reclaim  the  land,  and  make  it  fit  for  the  expected 
day  of  jubilee.  The  Jews  from  all  parts  of  the 
world,  they  say,  are  to  return  to  Palestine,  and 
there  is  to  issue  out  of  the  Holy  Land  a  new  divine 
impulse  which  is  to  be  the  regeneration  and  salva- 
tion of  the  world.  I  do  not  know  that  anybody  but 
the  Jews  themselves  would  oppose  their  migration 
to  Palestine,  though  their  withdrawal  from  the 
business  of  the  world  suddenly  would  create  wide 
disaster.  With  these  doubts,  however,  we  did  not 
trouble  the  youthful  knight  of  severity.  We  only 
asked  him  upon  what  the  community  founded  its 
creed  and  its  mission.  Largely,  he  replied,  upon 


AN   EARLY   POLYGLOT  13 

the  prophets,  and  especially  upon  Isaiah;  and  he 
referred  us  to  Isaiah  xxxii.  1;  xlix.  12  et  seq.; 
and  lii.  1.  It  is  not  every  industrial  community 
that  would  flourish  on  a  charter  so  vague  as  this. 

A  lad  of  twelve  or  fourteen  was  our  guide  to 
the  Advent  settlement ;  he  was  an  early  polyglot, 
speaking,  besides  English,  French,  and  German, 
Arabic,  and,  I  think,  a  little  Greek ;  a  boy  of  un- 
common gravity  of  deportment  and  of  precocious 
shrewdness.  He  is  destined  to  be  a  guide  and 
dragoman.  I  could  see  that  the  whole  Biblical 
history  was  a  little  fade  to  him,  but  he  does  not 
lose  sight  of  the  profit  of  a  knowledge  of  it.  I 
could  not  but  contrast  him  with  a  Sunday-school 
scholar  of  his  own  age  in  America,  whose  imagi- 
nation kindles  at  the  Old  Testament  stories,  and 
whose  enthusiasm  for  the  Holy  Land  is  awakened 
by  the  wall  maps  and  the  pictures  of  Solomon's 
Temple.  Actual  contact  has  destroyed  the  imagi- 
nation of  this  boy;  Jerusalem  is  not  so  much  a 
wonder  to  him  as  Boston;  Samson  lived  just  over 
there  beyond  the  Plain  of  Sharon,  and  is  not  so 
much  a  hero  as  Old  Put. 

The  boy's  mother  was  a  good  New  Hampshire 
woman,  whose  downright  Yankeeism  of  thought 
and  speech  was  an  odd  contrast  to  her  Oriental  sur- 
roundings. I  sat  in  a  rocking-chair  in  the  sitting- 
room  of  her  little  wood  cottage,  and  could  scarcely 
convince  myself  that  I  was  not  in  a  prim  New 
Hampshire  parlor.  To  her  mind  there  were  no 
more  Oriental  illusions,  and  perhaps  she  had  never 
indulged  any;  certainly,  in  her  presence  Palestine 
seemed  to  me  as  commonplace  as  New  England. 


14  FROM   JAFFA  TO   JERUSALEM 

"I  s'pose  you  've  seen  the  meetin'  house?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Wai,  it 's  goin'  to  rack  and  ruin  like  every- 
thing else  here.  There  is  n't  enough  here  to  have 
any  service  now.  Sometimes  I  go  to  the  German ; 
I  try  to  keep  up  a  little  feeling." 

I  have  no  doubt  it  is  more  difficult  to  keep  up 
a  religious  feeling  in  the  Holy  Land  than  it  is  in 
New  Hampshire,  but  we  did  not  discuss  that  point. 
I  asked,  "Do  you  have  any  society?  " 

"Precious  little.  The  Germans  are  dreffle  un- 
social. The  natives  are  all  a  low  set.  The  Arabs 
will  all  lie;  I  don't  think  much  of  any  of  'em. 
The  Mohammedans  are  all  shiftless;  you  can't 
trust  any  of  'em." 

"Why  don't  you  go  home?  " 

"Wai,  sometimes  I  think  I'd  like  to  see  the 
old  place,  but  I  reckon  I  could  n't  stand  the  win- 
ters. This  is  a  nice  climate,  that 's  all  there  is 
here ;  and  we  have  grapes  and  oranges,  and  loads 
of  flowers,  —  you  see  my  garden  there ;  I  set  great 
store  by  that,  and  me  and  my  daughter  take  solid 
comfort  in  it,  especially  when  he  is  away,  and  he 
has  to  be  off  most  of  the  time  with  parties,  guidin' 
'em  round.  No,  I  guess  1  sha'n't  ever  cross  the 
ocean  again." 

It  appeared  that  the  good  woman  had  consoled 
herself  with  a  second  husband,  who  bears  a  Jewish 
name;  so  that  the  original  object  of  her  mission, 
to  gather  in  the  chosen  people,  is  not  altogether 
lost  sight  of. 

There  is  a  curious  interest  in  these  New  England 


NEW   ENGLAND  IN  THE   ORIENT  15 

transplantations.  Climate  is  a  great  transformer. 
The  habits  and  customs  of  thousands  of  years  will 
insensibly  conquer  the  most  stubborn  prejudices. 
I  wonder  how  long  it  will  require  to  blend  these 
scions  of  our  vigorous  civilization  with  the  motley 
growth  that  makes  up  the  present  Syriac  popu- 
lation, —  people  whose  blood  is  streaked  with  a 
dozen  different  strains,  Egyptian,  Ethiopian,  Ara- 
bian, Assyrian,  Phoenician,  Greek,  Roman,  Ca- 
naanite,  Jewish,  Persian,  Turkish,  with  all  the  races 
that  have  in  turn  ravaged  or  occupied  the  land. 
I  do  not,  indeed,  presume  to  say  what  the  Syrians 
are  who  have  occupied  Palestine  for  so  many  hun- 
dreds of  years,  but  I  cannot  see  how  it  can  be 
otherwise  than  that  their  blood  is  as  mixed  as  that 
of  the  modern  Egyptians.  Perhaps  these  New 
England  offshoots  will  maintain  their  distinction 
of  race  for  a  long  time,  but  I  should  be  still  more 
interested  to  know  how  long  the  New  England 
mind  will  keep  its  integrity  in  these  surroundings, 
and  whether  those  ruggednesses  of  virtue  and  those 
homely  simplicities  of  character  which  we  recog- 
nize as  belonging  to  the  hilly  portions  of  New  Eng- 
land will  insensibly  melt  away  in  this  relaxing  air 
that  so  much  wants  moral  tone.  These  Oriental 
countries  have  been  conquered  many  times,  but 
they  have  always  conquered  their  conquerors.  I 
am  told  that  even  our  American  consuls  are  not 
always  more  successful  in  resisting  the  undermin- 
ing seductions  of  the  East  than  were  the  Roman 
proconsuls. 

These  reflections,  however,  let  it  be  confessed, 


16  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

did  not  come  to  me  as  I  sat  in  the  rocking-chair 
of  my  countrywoman.  I  was  rather  thinking  how 
completely  her  presence  and  accent  dispelled  all 
my  Oriental  illusions  and  cheapened  the  associa- 
tions of  Jaffa.  There  is  I  know  not  what  in  a  real 
living  Yankee  that  puts  all  appearances  to  the  test 
and  dissipates  the  colors  of  romance.  It  was  not 
nntil  I  came  again  into  the  highway,  and  found  in 
front  of  The  Jerusalem  hotel  a  company  of  Arab 
acrobats  and  pyramid-builders,  their  swarthy  bodies 
shining  in  the  white  sunlight,  and  a  lot  of  idlers 
squatting  about  in  enjoyment  of  the  exertions  of 
others,  that  I  recovered  in  any  degree  my  delu- 
sions. 

With  the  return  of  these,  it  seemed  not  so  im- 
possible to  believe  even  in  the  return  of  the  Jews ; 
especially  when  we  learned  that  preparations  for 
them  multiply.  A  second  German  colony  has 
been  established  outside  of  the  city.  There  is  an- 
other at  Haifa;  on  the  Jerusalem  road  the  begin- 
ning of  one  has  been  made  by  the  Jews  themselves. 
It  amounts  to  something  like  a  "movement." 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  set  out  for 
Ramleh,  ignominously,  in  a  wagon.  There  is  a 
carriage-road  from  Jaffa  to  Jerusalem,  and  our 
dragoman  had  promised  us  a  "private  carriage." 
We  decided  to  take  it,  thinking  it  would  be  more 
comfortable  than  horseback  for  some  of  our  party. 
We  made  a  mistake,  which  we  have  never  ceased 
to  regret.  The  road  I  can  confidently  commend 
as  the  worst  in  the  world.  The  carriage  into 
which  we  climbed  belonged  to  the  German  colony, 


THE  PLAIN   OF   SHARON  17 

and  was  a  compromise  between  the  ancient  ark,  a 
modern  dray,  and  a  threshing-machine.  It  was 
one  of  those  contrivances  that  a  German  would 
evolve  out  of  his  inner  consciousness,  and  its  ap- 
pearance here  gave  me  grave  doubts  as  to  the 
adaptability  of  these  honest  Germans  to  the  Orient. 
It  was,  however,  a  great  deal  worse  than  it  looked. 
If  it  were  driven  over  smooth  ground  it  would  soon 
loosen  all  the  teeth  of  the  passengers,  and  shatter 
their  spinal  columns.  But  over  the  Jerusalem 
road  the  effect  was  indescribable.  The  noise  of  it 
was  intolerable,  the  jolting  incredible.  The  little 
solid  Dutchman,  who  sat  in  front  and  drove,  shook 
like  the  charioteer  of  an  artillery  wagon;  but  I 
suppose  he  had  no  feeling.  We  pounded  along 
over  the  roughest  stone  pavement,  with  the  sensa- 
tion of  victims  drawn  to  execution  in  a  cart,  until 
we  emerged  into  the  open  country;  but  there  we 
found  no  improvement  in  the  road. 

Jaffa  is  surrounded  by  immense  orange  groves, 
which  are  protected  along  the  highways  by  hedges 
of  prickly-pear.  We  came  out  from  a  lane  of 
these  upon  the  level  and  blooming  Plain  of  Sharon, 
and  saw  before  us,  on  the  left,  the  blue  hills  of 
Judaea.  It  makes  little  difference  what  kind  of 
conveyance  one  has,  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  ad- 
vance upon  this  historic,  if  not  sacred  plain,  and 
catch  the  first  glimpse  of  those  pale  hills  which 
stood  to  him  for  a  celestial  vision  in  his  childhood, 
without  a  great  quickening  of  the  pulse ;  and  it  is 
a  most  lovely  view  after  Egypt,  or  after  anything. 
The  elements  of  it  are  simple  enough,  —  merely  a 


18  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

wide  sweep  of  prairie  and  a  line  of  graceful  moun- 
tains; but  the  forms  are  pleasing,  and  the  color 
is  incomparable.  The  soil  is  warm  and  red,  the 
fields  are  a  mass  of  wild-flowers  of  the  most  bril- 
liant and  variegated  hues,  and,  alternately  swept 
by  the  shadows  of  clouds  and  bathed  in  the  sun, 
the  scene  takes  on  the  animation  of  incessant 
change. 

It  was  somewhere  here,  outside  the  walls,  I  do 
not  know  the  spot,  that  the  massacre  of  Jaffa  oc- 
curred. I  purposely  go  out  of  my  way  to  repeat 
the  well-known  story  of  it,  and  I  trust  that  it  will 
always  be  recalled  whenever  any  mention  is  made 
of  the  cruel  little  Corsican  who  so  long  imposed 
the  vulgarity  and  savageness  of  his  selfish  nature 
upon  Europe.  It  was  in  March,  1799,  that  Na- 
poleon, toward  the  close  of  his  humiliating  and 
disastrous  campaign  in  Egypt,  carried  Jaffa  by 
storm.  The  town  was  given  over  to  pillage.  Dur- 
ing its  progress  four  thousand  Albanians  of  the 
garrison,  taking  refuge  in  some  old  khans,  offered 
to  surrender  on  condition  that  their  lives  should 
be  spared ;  otherwise  they  would  fight  to  the  bitter 
end.  Their  terms  were  accepted,  and  two  of  Na- 
poleon's aids-de-camp  pledged  their  honor  for  their 
safety.  They  were  marched  out  to  the  general's 
headquarters  and  seated  in  front  of  the  tents  with 
their  arms  bound  behind  them.  The  displeased 
commander  called  a  council  of  war  and  deliberated 
two  days  upon  their  fate,  and  then  signed  the  or- 
der for  the  massacre  of  the  entire  body.  The  ex- 
cuse was  that  the  general  could  not  be  burdened 


SPRINGTIME    IN   THE    HOLY   LAND  19 

with  so  many  prisoners.  Thus  in  one  day  were 
murdered  in  cold  blood  about  as  many  people  as 
Jaffa  at  present  contains.  Its  inhabitants  may  be 
said  to  have  been  accustomed  to  being  massacred; 
eight  thousand  of  them  were  butchered  in  one  Ro- 
man assault;  but  I  suppose  all  antiquity  may  be 
searched  in  vain  for  an  act  of  perfidy  and  cruelty 
combined  equal  to  that  of  the  Grand  Emperor. 

The  road  over  which  we  rattle  is  a  causeway  of 
loose  stones;  the  country  is  a  plain  of  sand,  but 
clothed  with  a  luxuriant  vegetation.  In  the  fields 
the  brown  husbandmen  are  ploughing,  turning  up 
the  soft  red  earth  with  a  rude  plough  drawn  by 
cattle  yoked  wide  apart.  Red-legged  storks,  on 
their  way,  I  suppose,  from  Egypt  to  their  summer 
residence  further  north,  dot  the  meadows,  and  are 
too  busy  picking  up  worms  to  notice  our  halloo. 
Abd-el-Atti,  who  has  a  passion  for  shooting,  begs 
permission  to  "go  for"  these  household  birds  with 
the  gun ;  but  we  explain  to  him  that  we  would  no 
more  shoot  a  stork  than  one  of  the  green  birds  of 
Paradise.  Quails  are  scudding  about  in  the  newly 
turned  furrows,  and  song  birds  salute  us  from  the 
tops  of  swinging  cypresses.  The  Holy  Land  is 
rejoicing  in  its  one  season  of  beauty,  its  spring- 
time. 

Trees  are  not  wanting  to  the  verdant  meadows. 
We  still  encounter  an  occasional  grove  of  oranges ; 
olives  also  appear,  and  acacias,  sycamores,  cy- 
presses, and  tamarisks.  The  pods  of  the  carob- 
tree  are,  I  believe,  the  husks  upon  which  the  prod- 
igal son  did  not  thrive.  Large  patches  of  barley 


20  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

are  passed.  But  the  fields  not  occupied  with 
grain  are  literally  carpeted  with  wild-flowers  of  the 
most  brilliant  hues,  such  a  display  as  I  never  saw 
elsewhere:  scarlet  and  dark  flaming  poppies,  the 
scarlet  anemone,  marigolds,  white  daisies,  the 
lobelia,  the  lupin,  the  vetch,  the  gorse  with  its 
delicate  yellow  blossom,  the  pea,  something  that 
we  agreed  to  call  the  white  rose  of  Sharon,  the 
mallow,  the  asphodel;  the  leaves  of  a  lily  not  yet 
in  bloom.  About  the  rose  of  Sharon  we  no  doubt 
were  mistaken.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  it 
was  white;  but  we  have  somehow  associated  the 
purity  of  that  color  with  the  song  beginning,  "I 
am  the  rose  of  Sharon  and  the  lily  of  the  valleys." 
It  was  probably  not  even  a  rose.  We  finally  de- 
cided to  cherish  the  red  mallow  as  the  rose  of 
Sharon ;  it  is  very  abundant,  and  the  botanist  of 
our  company  seemed  satisfied  to  accept  it.  For 
myself,  the  rose  by  the  name  of  mallow  does  not 
smell  sweet. 

We  come  in  sight  of  Ramleh,  which  lies  on  the 
swelling  mounds  of  the  green  plain,  encompassed 
by  emerald  meadows  and  by  groves  of  orange  and 
olive,  and  conspicuous  from  a  great  distance  by 
its  elegant  square  tower,  the  most  beautiful  in  form 
that  we  have  seen  in  the  East.  As  the  sun  is  sink- 
ing, we  defer  our  visit  to  it,  and  drive  to  the 
Latin  convent,  where  we  are  to  lodge,  permission 
to  that  effect  having  been  obtained  from  the  sister 
convent  at  Jaffa ;  a  mere  form,  since  a  part  of  the 
convent  was  built  expressly  for  the  entertainment 
of  travelers,  and  the  few  monks  who  occupy  it  find 


THE   CONVENT   OF   RAMLEH  21 

keeping  a  hotel  a  very  profitable  kind  of  hospital- 
ity. The  stranger  is  the  guest  of  the  superior,  no 
charge  is  made,  and  the  little  fiction  of  gratuitous 
hospitality  so  pleases  the  pilgrim  that  he  will  not 
at  his  departure  be  outdone  in  liberality.  It  would 
be  much  more  agreeable  if  all  our  hotels  were  upon 
this  system. 

While  the  dragoman  is  unpacking  the  luggage 
in  the  court-yard  and  bustling  about  in  a  manner 
to  impress  the  establishment  with  the  importance 
of  its  accession,  I  climb  up  to  the  roofs  to  get  the 
sunset.  The  house  is  all  roofs,  it  would  seem,  at 
different  levels.  Steps  lead  here  and  there,  and 
one  can  wander  about  at  will ;  you  could  not  desire 
a  pleasanter  lounging-place  in  a  summer  evening. 
The  protecting  walls,  which  are  breast-high,  are 
built  in  with  cylinders  of  tile,  like  the  mud  houses 
in  Egypt;  the  tiles  make  the  walls  lighter,  and 
furnish  at  the  same  time  peep-holes  through  which 
the  monks  can  spy  the  world,  themselves  unseen. 
I  noticed  that  the  tiles  about  the  entrance  court 
were  inclined  downwards,  so  that  a  curious  person 
could  study  any  new  arrival  at  the  convent  without 
being  himself  observed.  The  sun  went  down  be- 
hind the  square  tower  which  is  called  Saracenic 
and  is  entirely  Gothic  in  spirit,  and  the  light  lay 
soft  and  rosy  on  the  wide  compass  of  green  vege- 
tation ;  I  heard  on  the  distant  fields  the  bells  of 
mules  returning  to  the  gates,  and  the  sound  substi- 
tuted Italy  in  my  mind  for  Palestine. 

From  this  prospect  I  was  summoned  in  haste; 
the  superior  of  the  convent  was  waiting  to  receive 


22  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

me,  and  I  had  been  sought  in  all  directions.  I  had 
no  idea  why  I  should  be  received,  but  I  soon  found 
that  the  occasion  was  not  a  trivial  one.  In  the 
reception-room  were  seated  in  some  state  the  su- 
perior, attended  by  two  or  three  brothers,  and  the 
remainder  of  my  suite  already  assembled.  The 
abbot,  if  he  is  an  abbot,  arose  and  cordially  wel- 
comed "the  general"  to  his  humble  establishment, 
hoped  that  he  was  not  fatigued  by  the  journey  from 
Jaffa,  and  gave  him  a  seat  beside  himself.  The 
remainder  of  the  party  were  ranged  according  to 
their  rank.  I  replied  that  the  journey  was  on  the 
contrary  delightful,  and  that  any  journey  could  be 
considered  fortunate  which  had  the  hospitable  con- 
vent of  Ramleh  as  its  end.  The  courteous  monk 
renewed  his  solicitous  inquiries,  and  my  astonish- 
ment was  increased  by  the  botanist,  who  gravely 
assured  the  worthy  father  that  "the  general"  was 
accustomed  to  fatigue,  and  that  such  a  journey  as 
this  was  a  recreation  to  him. 

"What  in  the  mischief  is  all  this  about?"  I 
seized  a  moment  to  whisper  to  the  person  next  me. 

"You  are  a  distinguished  American  general, 
traveling  with  his  lady  in  pursuit  of  Heaven  knows 
what,  and  accompanied  by  his  suite;  don't  make  a 
mess  of  it." 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "if  I  am  a  distinguished  Ameri- 
can general,  traveling  with  my  lady  in  pursuit  of 
Heaven  knows  what,  I  am  glad  to  know  it." 

Fortunately  the  peaceful  father  did  not  know 
anything  more  of  war  than  I  did,  and  I  suppose 
my  hastily  assumed  modesty  of  the  soldier  seemed 


A   DISTINGUISHED   AMERICAN   GENERAL        23 

to  him  the  real  thing.  It  was  my  first  experience 
of  anything  like  real  war,  the  first  time  I  had  ever 
occupied  any  military  position,  and  it  did  not  seem 
to  be  so  arduous  as  has  been  represented. 

Great  regret  was  expressed  by  the  superior  that 
they  had  not  anticipated  my  arrival,  in  order  to 
have  entertained  me  in  a  more  worthy  manner ;  the 
convent  was  uncommonly  full  of  pilgrims,  and  it 
would  be  difficult  to  lodge  my  suite  as  it  deserved. 
Then  there  followed  a  long  discussion  between  the 
father  and  one  of  the  monks  upon  our  disposition 
for  the  night. 

"  If  we  give  the  general  and  his  lady  the  south 
room  in  the  court,  then  the  doctor  "  —  etc.,  etc. 

"Or,"  urged  the  monk,  "suppose  the  general 
and  his  lady  occupy  the  cell  number  four,  then 
mademoiselle  can  take"  —  etc.,  etc. 

The  military  commander  and  his  lady  were  at 
last  shown  into  a  cell  opening  out  of  the  court,  a 
lofty  but  narrow  vaulted  room,  with  brick  floor 
and  thick  walls,  and  one  small  window  near  the 
ceiling.  Instead  of  candles  we  had  antique  Roman 
lamps,  which  made  a  feeble  glimmer  in  the  cav- 
ern; the  oddest  water-jugs  served  for  pitchers. 
It  may  not  have  been  damp,  but  it  felt  as  if  no 
sun  had  ever  penetrated  the  chill  interior. 

"What  is  all  this  nonsense  of  the  general?"  I 
asked  Abd-el-Atti,  as  soon  as  I  could  get  hold  of 
that  managing  factotum. 

"  Dunno,  be  sure ;  these  monk  always  pay  more 
attention  to  'stinguish  people." 

"  But  what  did  you  say  at  the  convent  in  Jaffa 
when  you  applied  for  a  permit  to  lodge  here?" 


24  FROM  JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

"  Oh,  I  tell  him  my  gentleman  general  Ameri- 
can, but  'stinguish;  mebbe  he  done  gone  wrote 
'em  that  you  'stinguish  American  general.  Very 
nice  man,  the  superior,  speak  Italian  beautiful; 
when  I  give  him  the  letter,  he  say  he  do  all  he  can 
for  the  general  and  his  suite;  he  sorry  I  not  let 
him  know  'forehand." 

The  dinner  was  served  in  the  long  refectory, 
and  there  were  some  twenty -five  persons  at  table, 
mostly  pilgrims  to  Jerusalem,  and  most  of  them  of 
the  poorer  class.  One  bright  Italian  had  traveled 
alone  with  her  little  boy  all  the  way  from  Verona, 
only  to  see  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  The  monks 
waited  at  table  and  served  a  very  good  dinner. 
Travelers  are  not  permitted  to  enter  the  portion  of 
the  large  convent  which  contains  the  cells  of  the 
monks,  nor  to  visit  any  part  of  the  old  building 
except  the  chapel.  I  fancied  that  the  jolly  bro- 
thers who  waited  at  table  were  rather  glad  to  come 
into  contact  with  the  world,  even  in  this  capacity. 

In  the  dining-room  hangs  a  notable  picture.  It 
is  the  Virgin  enthroned,  with  a  crown  and  aureole, 
holding  the  holy  child,  who  is  also  crowned;  in 
the  foreground  is  a  choir  of  white  boys  or  angels. 
The  Virgin  and  child  are  both  black :  it  is  the  Vir- 
gin of  Ethiopia.  I  could  not  learn  the  origin  of 
this  picture ;  it  was  rude  enough  in  execution  to  be 
the  work  of  a  Greek  artist  of  the  present  day ;  but 
it  was  said  to  come  from  Ethiopia,  where  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  a  proper  respect  for  the  Virgin  that  she 
should  be  represented  black.  She  seems  to  bear 
something  the  relation  to  the  Virgin  of  Juda?a  that 


THE   VIRGIN   OF  ETHIOPIA  25 

Astarte  did  to  the  Grecian  Venus.  And  we  are 
again  reminded  that  the  East  has  no  prejudice  of 
color :  "  I  am  black  but  comely,  O  ye  daughters  of 
Jerusalem;"  "Look  not  upon  me  because  I  am 
black,  because  the  sun  hath  looked  upon  me." 

The  convent  bells  are  ringing  at  early  dawn, 
and  though  we  are  up  at  half  past  five,  nearly  all 
the  pilgrims  have  hastily  departed  for  Jerusalem. 
Upon  the  roof  I  find  the  morning  fair.  There  are 
more  minarets  than  spires  in  sight,  but  they  stand 
together  in  this  pretty  little  town  without  discord. 
The  bells  are  ringing  in  melodious  persuasion,  but 
at  the  same  time,  in  voices  as  musical,  the  muez- 
zins are  calling  from  their  galleries ;  each  summon- 
ing men  to  prayer  in  its  own  way.  From  these 
walls  spectators  once  looked  down  upon  the  battles 
of  cross  and  crescent  raging  in  the  lovely  mead- 
ows, —  battles  of  quite  as  much  pride  as  piety.  A 
common  interest  always  softens  animosity,  and  I 
fancy  that  monks  and  Moslems  will  not  again  re- 
sort to  the  foolish  practice  of  breaking  each  other's 
heads  so  long  as  they  enjoy  the  profitable  stream 
of  pilgrims  to  the  Holy  Land. 

After  breakfast  and  a  gift  to  the  treasury  of  the 
convent  according  to  our  rank,  —  I  think  if  I  were 
to  stay  there  again  it  would  be  in  the  character  of 
a  common  soldier,  —  we  embarked  again  in  the 
ark,  and  jolted  along  behind  the  square-shouldered 
driver,  who  seemed  to  enjoy  the  rattling  and  rum- 
bling of  his  clumsy  vehicle.  But  110  minor  infe- 
licity could  destroy  for  us  the  freshness  of  the 
morning  or  the  enjoyment  of  the  lovely  country. 


26  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

Although,  in  the  jolting,  one  could  not  utter  a  re- 
mark about  the  beauty  of  the  way  without  danger 
of  biting  his  tongue  in  two,  we  feasted  our  eyes 
and  let  our  imaginations  loose  over  the  vast  ranges 
of  the  Old  Testament  story. 

After  passing  through  the  fertile  meadows  of 
Ramleh,  we  came  into  a  more  rolling  country, 
destitute  of  houses,  but  clothed  on  with  a  most 
brilliant  bloom  of  wild-flowers,  among  which  the 
papilionaceous  flowers  were  conspicuous  for  color 
and  delicacy.  I  found  by  the  roadside  a  black 
calla  (which  I  should  no  more  have  believed  in 
than  in  the  black  "V  irgin,  if  I  had  not  seen  it).  Its 
leaf  is  exactly  that  of  our  calla-lily ;  its  flower  is 
similar  to,  but  not  so  open  and  flaring  as  the  white 
calla,  and  the  pistil  is  large  and  very  long,  and  of 
the  color  of  the  interior  of  the  flower.  The  corolla 
is  green  on  the  outside,  but  the  inside  is  incompar- 
ably rich,  like  velvet,  black  in  some  lights  and 
dark  maroon  in  others.  Nothing  could  be  finer  in 
color  and  texture  than  this  superb  flower.  Be- 
sides the  blooms  of  yesterday  we  noticed  butter- 
cups, various  sorts  of  the  ranunculus,  among  them 
the  scarlet  and  the  shooting-star,  a  light  purple 
flower  with  a  dark  purple  centre,  the  Star  of  Beth- 
lehem, and  the  purple  wind-flower.  Scarlet  pop- 
pies and  the  still  more  brilliant  scarlet  anemones, 
dandelions,  marguerites,  filled  all  the  fields  with 
masses  of  color. 

Shortly  we  come  into  the  hills,  through  which 
the  road  winds  upward,  and  the  scenery  is  very 
much  like  that  of  the  Adirondacks,  or  would  be  if 


CONSECRATED   GROUND  27 

the  rocky  hills  of  the  latter  were  denuded  of  trees. 
The  way  begins  to  be  lively  with  passengers,  and 
it  becomes  us  to  be  circumspect,  for  almost  every 
foot  of  ground  has  been  consecrated  or  desecrated, 
or  in  some  manner  made  memorable.  This  heap  of 
rubbish  is  the  remains  of  a  fortress  which  the  Sar- 
acens captured,  built  by  the  Crusaders  to  guard 
the  entrance  of  the  pass,  upon  the  site  of  an  older 
fortification  by  the  Maccabees,  or  founded  upon 
Roman  substructions,  and  mentioned  in  Judges  as 
the  spot  where  some  very  ancient  Jew  stayed  over 
night.  It  is  also,  no  doubt,  one  of  the  stations 
that  help  us  to  determine  with  the  accuracy  of  a 
surveyor  the  boundary  between  the  territory  of 
Benjamin  and  Judah.  I  try  to  ascertain  all  these 
localities  and  to  remember  them  all,  but  I  some- 
times get  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion  mixed  with  Jon- 
athan Maccabseus,  and  I  have  no  doubt  I  mistook 
"Job's  convent "  for  the  Castellum  boni  Latronis, 
a  place  we  were  specially  desirous  to  see  as  the 
birthplace  of  the  "penitent  thief."  But  whatever 
we  confounded,  we  are  certain  of  one  thing :  we 
looked  over  into  the  Valley  of  Ajalon.  It  was 
over  this  valley  that  Joshua  commanded  the  moon 
to  tarry  while  he  smote  the  fugitive  Amorites  on 
the  heights  of  Gibeon,  there  to  the  east. 

The  road  is  thronged  with  pilgrims  to  Jerusalem, 
and  with  travelers  and  their  attendants,  —  gay 
cavalcades  scattered  all  along  the  winding  way 
over  the  rolling  plain,  as  in  the  picture  of  the  Pil- 
grims to  Canterbury.  All  the  transport  of  freight 
as  well  as  passengers  is  by  the  backs  of  beasts  of 


28  FROM   JAFFA   TO    JERUSALEM 

burden.  There  are  long  files  of  horses  and  mules 
staggering  under  enormous  loads  of  trunks,  tents, 
and  bags.  Dragomans,  some  of  them  got  up  in 
fierce  style,  with  baggy  yellow  trousers,  yellow 
kuflias  bound  about  the  head  with  a  twisted  fillet, 
armed  with  long  Damascus  swords,  their  belts 
stuck  full  of  pistols,  and  a  rifle  slung  on  the  back, 
gallop  furiously  along  the  line,  the  signs  of  danger 
but  the  assurances  of  protection.  Camp  boys  and 
waiters  dash  along  also,  on  the  pack-horses,  with 
a  great  clatter  of  kitchen  furniture ;  even  a  scullion 
has  an  air  of  adventure  as  he  pounds  his  rack-a- 
bone  steed  into  a  vicious  gallop.  And  there  are 
the  Cook's  tourists,  called  by  everybody  "Cookies," 
men  and  women  struggling  on  according  to  the 
pace  of  their  horses,  conspicuous  in  hats  with  white 
muslin  drapery  hanging  over  the  neck.  Villainous - 
looking  fellows  with  or  without  long  guns,  coming 
and  going  on  the  highway,  have  the  air  of  being 
neither  pilgrims  nor  strangers.  We  meet  women 
returning  from  Jerusalem  clad  in  white,  seated 
astride  their  horses,  or  upon  beds  which  top  their 
multifarious  baggage. 

We  are  leaving  behind  us  on  the  right  the  coun- 
try of  Samson,  in  which  he  passed  his  playful  and 
engaging  boyhood,  and  we  look  wistfully  towards  it. 
Of  Zorah,  where  he  was  born,  nothing  is  left  but 
a  cistern,  and  there  is  only  a  wretched  hamlet  to 
mark  the  site  of  Timnath,  where  he  got  his  Phi- 
listine wife.  "Get  her  for  me,  for  she  pleaseth 
me  well,"  was  his  only  reply  to  the  entreaty  of  his 
father  that  he  would  be  content  with  a  maid  of 
his  own  people. 


A  WILD  AND  ROCKY  COUNTRY       29 

The  country  gets  wilder  and  more  rocky  as 
we  ascend.  Down  the  ragged  side  paths  come 
wretched  women  and  girls,  staggering  under  the 
loads  of  brushwood  which  they  have  cut  in  the  high 
ravines ;  loads  borne  upon  the  head  that  would  tax 
the  strength  of  a  strong  man.  I  found  it  no  easy 
task  to  lift  one  of  the  bundles.  The  poor  creatures 
were  scantily  clad  in  a  single  garment  of  coarse 
brown  cloth,  but  most  of  them  wore  a  profusion  of 
ornaments;  strings  of  coins,  Turkish  and  Arabic, 
on  the  head  and  breast,  and  uncouth  rings  and 
bracelets.  Farther  on  a  rabble  of  boys  besets  us, 
begging  for  backsheesh  in  piteous  and  whining 
tones,  and  throwing  up  their  arms  in  theatrical 
gestures  of  despair. 

All  the  hills  bear  marks  of  having  once  been 
terraced  to  the  very  tops,  for  vines  and  olives. 
The  natural  ledges  seem  to  have  been  humored  into 
terraces  and  occasionally  built  up  and  broadened 
by  stone  walls;  but  where  the  hill  was  smooth, 
traces  of  terraces  are  yet  visible.  The  grape  is 
still  cultivated  low  down  the  steeps,  and  the  olives 
straggle  over  some  of  the  hills  to  the  very  top ;  but 
these  feeble  efforts  of  culture  or  of  nature  do  little 
to  relieve  the  deserted  aspect  of  the  scene. 

We  lunch  in  a  pretty  olive  grove,  upon  a  slope 
long  ago  terraced  and  now  grass-grown  and  flower- 
sown;  lovely  vistas  open  into  cool  glades,  and 
paths  lead  upward  among  the  rocks  to  inviting  re- 
treats. From  this  high  perch  in  the  bosom  of  the 
hills  we  look  off  upon  Ramleh,  Jaffa,  the  broad 
Plain  of  Sharon,  and  the  sea.  A  strip  of  sand  be- 


30  PROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

tween  the  sea  and  the  plain  produces  the  effect  of 
a  mirage,  giving  to  the  plain  the  appearance  of  the 
sea.  It  would  be  a  charming  spot  for  a  country- 
seat  for  a  resident  of  Jerusalem,  although  Jerusa- 
lem itself  is  rural  enough  at  present;  and  David 
and  Solomon  may  have  had  summer  pavilions  in 
these  cool  shades  in  sight  of  the  Mediterranean. 
David  himself,  however,  perhaps  had  enough  of 
this  region  —  when  he  dodged  about  in  these  fast- 
nesses between  Ramah  and  Gath,  from  the  pursuit 
of  Saul  —  to  make  him  content  with  a  city  life. 
There  is  nothing  to  hinder  our  believing  that  he 
often  enjoyed  this  prospect;  and  we  do  believe  it, 
for  it  is  already  evident  that  the  imagination  must 
be  called  in  to  create  an  enjoyment  of  this  deserted 
land.  David  no  doubt  loved  this  spot.  For 
David  was  a  poet,  even  at  this  early  period  when 
his  occupation  was  that  of  a  successful  guerilla ;  and 
he  had  all  the  true  poet's  adaptability,  as  witness 
the  exquisite  ode  he  composed  on  the  death  of  his 
enemy  Saul.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  enjoyed  this 
lovely  prospect  often,  for  he  was  a  man  who  en- 
joyed heartily  everything  lovely.  He  was  in  this 
as  in  all  he  did  a  thorough  man ;  when  he  made  a 
raid  on  an  Amorite  city,  he  left  neither  man, 
woman,  nor  child  alive  to  spread  the  news. 

We  have  already  mounted  over  two  thousand 
feet.  The  rocks  are  silicious  limestone,  crumbling 
and  gray  with  ages  of  exposure;  they  give  the 
landscape  an  ashy  appearance.  But  there  is  al- 
ways a  little  verdure  amid  the  rocks,  and  now 
and  then  an  olive-tree,  perhaps  a  very  old  one, 


ABU    GHAUSH  31 

decrepit  and  twisted  into  the  most  fantastic  form, 
as  if  distorted  by  a  vegetable  rheumatism,  casting 
abroad  its  withered  arms  as  if  the  tree  writhed  in 
pain.  On  such  ghostly  trees  I  have  no  doubt  the 
five  kings  were  hanged.  Another  tree  or  rather 
shrub  is  abundant,  the  dwarf -oak;  and  the  haw- 
thorn, now  in  blossom,  is  frequently  seen.  The 
rock-rose  —  a  delicate  white  single  flower  —  blooms 
by  the  wayside  and  amid  the  ledges,  and  the  scar- 
let anemone  flames  out  more  brilliantly  than  ever. 
Nothing  indeed  coidd  be  more  beautiful  than  the 
contrast  of  the  clusters  of  scarlet  anemones  and 
white  roses  with  the  gray  rocks. 

We  soon  descend  into  a  valley  and  reach  the  site 
of  Kirjath-Jearim,  which  has  not  much  ancient  in- 
terest for  me,  except  that  the  name  is  pleasing ;  but 
on  the  other  side  of  the  stream  and  opposite  a  Mos- 
lem fountain  are  the  gloomy  stone  habitations  of 
the  family  of  the  terrible  Abu  Ghaush,  whose  rob- 
beries of  travelers  kept  the  whole  country  in  a 
panic  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  He  held  the  key 
of  this  pass,  and  let  no  one  go  by  without  toll. 
For  fifty  years  he  and  his  companions  defied  the 
Turkish  government,  and  even  went  to  the  extrem- 
ity of  murdering  two  pashas  who  attempted  to  pass 
this  way.  He  was  disposed  of  in  1846,  but  his 
descendants  still  live  here,  having  the  inclination 
but  not  ths  courage  of  the  old  chief.  We  did  not 
encounter  any  of  them,  but  I  have  never  seen  any 
buildings  that  have  such  a  wicked  physiognomy  as 
their  grim  houses. 

Near  by  is    the    ruin   of   a   low,   thick-walled 


32  FROM   JAFFA  TO   JERUSALEM 

chapel,  of  a  pure  Gothic  style,  a  remnant  of  the 
Crusaders'  occupation.  The  gloomy  wady  has 
another  association:  a  monkish  tradition  would 
have  us  believe  it  was  the  birthplace  of  Jeremiah ; 
if  the  prophet  was  born  in  such  a  hard  country  it 
might  account  for  his  lamentations.  As  we  pass 
out  of  this  wady,  the  German  driver  points  to  a 
forlorn  village  clinging  to  the  rocky  slope  of  a  hill 
to  the  right,  and  says,  — 

"That  is  where  John  Baptist  was  born." 

The  information  is  sudden  and  seems  improb- 
able, especially  as  there  are  other  places  where  he 
was  born. 

"How  do  you  know?"  we  ask. 

"  Oh,  I  know  ganz  wohl ;  I  been  five  years  in 
dis  land,  and  I  ought  to  know." 

Descending  into  a  deep  ravine  we  cross  a  brook, 
which  we  are  told  is  the  one  that  flows  into  the 
Valley  of  Elah,  the  valley  of  the  "terebinth"  or 
button-trees ;  and  if  so,  it  is  the  brook  out  of  which 
David  took  the  stone  that  killed  Goliath.  It  is  a 
bright,  dashing  stream.  I  stood  upon  the  bridge, 
watching  it  dancing  down  the  ravine,  and  should 
have  none  but  agreeable  recollections  of  it,  but 
that  close  to  the  bridge  stood  a  vile  grog-shop,  and 
in  the  doorway  sat  the  most  villainous -looking  man 
I  ever  saw  in  Judaea,  rapacity  and  murder  in  his 
eyes.  The  present  generation  have  much  more  to 
fear  from  him  and  his  drugged  liquors  than  the 
Israelite  had  from  the  giant  of  Gath. 

While  the  wagon  zigzags  up  the  last  long  hill, 
I  mount  by  a  short  path  and  come  upon  a  rocky 


AN   ATROCIOUS   HIGHWAY  33 

plateau,  across  which  runs  a  broad  way,  on  the 
bed  rock,  worn  smooth  by  many  centuries  of 
travel :  by  the  passing  of  caravans  and  armies  to 
Jerusalem,  of  innumerable  generations  of  peasants, 
of  chariots,  of  horses,  mules,  and  foot-soldiers; 
here  went  the  messengers  of  the  king's  pleasure, 
and  here  came  the  heralds  and  legates  of  foreign 
nations;  this  great  highway  the  kings  and  pro- 
phets themselves  must  have  trodden  when  they 
journeyed  towards  the  sea;  for  I  cannot  learn  that 
the  Jews  ever  had  any  decent  roads,  and  perhaps 
they  never  attained  the  civilization  necessary  to 
build  them.  We  have  certainly  seen  no  traces  of 
anything  like  a  practicable  ancient  highway  on  this 
route. 

Indeed,  the  greatest  wonder  to  me  in  the  whole 
East  is  that  there  has  not  been  a  good  road  built 
from  Jaffa  to  Jerusalem ;  that  the  city  sacred  to 
more  than  half  the  world,  to  all  the  most  powerful 
nations,  to  Moslems,  Jews,  Greeks,  Roman  Catho- 
lics, Protestants,  the  desire  of  all  lands,  and  the 
object  of  pilgrimage  with  the  delicate  and  the  fee- 
ble as  well  as  the  strong,  should  not  have  a  high- 
way to  it  over  which  one  can  ride  without  being 
jarred  and  stunned  and  pounded  to  a  jelly;  that 
the  Jews  should  never  have  made  a  road  to  their 
seaport;  that  the  Romans,  the  road-builders,  do 
not  seem  to  have  constructed  one  over  this  impor- 
tant route.  The  Sultan  began  this  one  over  which 
we  have  been  dragged,  for  the  Empress  Eugenie. 
But  he  did  not  finish  it;  most  of  the  way  it  is  a 
mere  rubble  of  stones.  The  track  is  well  engi- 


34  FROM  JAFFA  TO   JERUSALEM 

neered,  and  the  road  bed  is  well  enough ;  soft  stone 
is  at  hand  to  form  an  excellent  dressing,  and  it 
might  be,  in  a  short  time,  as  good  a  highway  as 
any  in  Switzerland,  if  the  Sultan  would  set  some 
of  his  lazy  subjects  to  work  out  their  taxes  on  it. 
Of  course,  it  is  now  a  great  improvement  over 
the  old  path  for  mules ;  but  as  a  carriage  road  it 
is  atrocious.  Imagine  thirty-six  miles  of  cobble 
pavement,  with  every  other  stone  gone  and  the 
remainder  sharpened ! 

Perhaps,  however,  it  is  best  not  to  have  a  decent 
road  to  the  Holy  City  of  the  world.  It  would 
make  going  there  easy,  even  for  delicate  ladies  and 
invalid  clergymen ;  it  would  reduce  the  cost  of  the 
trip  from  Jaffa  by  two  thirds ;  it  would  take  away 
employment  from  a  lot  of  vagabonds  who  harry  the 
traveler  over  the  route ;  it  would  make  the  pilgrim- 
age too  much  a  luxury,  in  these  days  of  pilgrim- 
ages by  rail,  and  of  little  faith,  or  rather  of  a  sort 
of  lacquer  of  faith  which  is  only  credulity. 

Upon  this  plateau  we  begin  to  discern  signs  of 
the  neighborhood  of  the  city,  and  we  press  forward 
with  the  utmost  eagerness,  disappointed  at  every 
turn  that  a  sight  of  it  is  not  disclosed.  Scattered 
settlements  extend  for  some  distance  out  on  the 
Jaffa  road.  We  pass  a  school  which  the  Germans 
have  established  for  Arab  boys,  —  an  institution 
which  does  not  meet  the  approval  of  our  restora- 
tion driver ;  the  boys,  when  they  come  out,  he  says, 
don't  know  what  they  are;  they  are  neither  Mos- 
lems nor  Christians.  We  go  rapidly  on  over  the 
swelling  hill,  but  the  city  will  not  reveal  itself. 


Jerusalem 


JERUSALEM  35 

We  expect  it  any  moment  to  rise  up  before  us, 
conspicuous  on  its  ancient  hills,  its  walls  shining 
in  the  sun.  We  pass  a  guard-house,  some  towers, 
and  newly  built  private  residences.  Our  pulses 
are  beating  a  hundred  to  the  minute,  but  the  city 
refuses  to  "burst"  upon  us  as  it  does  upon  other 
travelers.  We  have  advanced  far  enough  to  see 
that  there  is  no  elevation  before  us  higher  than 
that  we  are  on.  The  great  sight  of  all  our  lives 
is  only  a  moment  separated  from  us;  in  a  few 
rods  more  our  hearts  will  be  satisfied  by  that  long- 
dreamed-of  prospect.  How  many  millions  of  pil- 
grims have  hurried  along  this  road,  lifting  up  their 
eyes  in  impatience  for  the  vision!  But  it  does 
not  come  suddenly.  We  have  already  seen  it, 
when  the  driver  stops,  points  with  his  whip,  and 
cries,  — 

"JERUSALEM!" 

"What,  that?" 

We  are  above  it  and  nearly  upon  it.  What  we 
see  is  chiefly  this :  the  domes  and  long  buildings 
of  the  Russian  Hospice,  on  higher  ground  than 
the  city  and  concealing  a  good  part  of  it ;  a  large 
number  of  new  houses,  built  of  limestone  prettily 
streaked  with  the  red  oxide  of  iron ;  the  roofs  of  a 
few  of  the  city  houses,  and  a  little  portion  of  the 
wall  that  overlooks  the  Valley  of  Hinnom.  The 
remainder  of  the  City  of  David  is  visible  to  the 
imagination. 

The  suburb  through  which  we  pass  cannot  be 
called  pleasing.  Everything  outside  the  walls 
looks  new  and  naked;  the  whitish  glare  of  the 


36  FROM   JAFFA   TO   JERUSALEM 

stone  is  relieved  by  little  vegetation,  and  the  effect 
is  that  of  barrenness.  As  we  drive  down  along 
the  wall  of  the  Russian  convent,  we  begin  to  meet 
pilgrims  and  strangers,  with  whom  the  city  over- 
flows at  this  season;  many  Russian  peasants,  un- 
kempt, unsavory  fellows,  with  long  hair  and  dirty 
apparel,  but  most  of  them  wearing  a  pelisse 
trimmed  with  fur  and  a  huge  fur  hat.  There  are 
coffee-houses  and  all  sorts  of  cheap  booths  and 
shanty  shops  along  the  highway.  The  crowd  is 
motley  and  far  from  pleasant ;  it  is  sordid,  grimy, 
hard,  very  different  from  the  more  homogeneous, 
easy,  flowing,  graceful,  and  picturesque  assemblage 
of  vagabonds  at  the  gate  of  an  Egyptian  town. 
There  are  Russians,  Cossacks,  Georgians,  Jews, 
Armenians,  Syrians.  The  northern  dirt  and 
squalor  and  fanaticism  do  not  come  gracefully  into 
the  Orient.  Besides,  the  rabble  is  importunate 
and  impudent. 

We  enter  by  the  Jaffa  and  Hebron  gate,  a  big 
square  tower,  with  the  exterior  entrance  to  the 
north  and  the  interior  to  the  east,  and  the  short 
turn  is  choked  with  camels  and  horses  and  a  clam- 
orous crowd.  Beside  it  stands  the  ruinous  citadel 
of  Saladin  and  the  Tower  of  David,  a  noble  en- 
trance to  a  mean  street.  Through  the  rush  of 
footmen  and  horsemen,  beggars,  venders  of  olive- 
wood,  Moslems,  Jews,  and  Greeks,  we  make  our 
way  to  the  Mediterranean  Hotel,  a  rambling  new 
hostelry.  In  passing  to  our  rooms  we  pause  a 
moment  upon  an  open  balcony  to  look  down  into 
the  green  Pool  of  Hezekiah,  and  off  over  the  roofs 


THE  CENTRE  OF  THE  EARTH        37 

to  the  Mount  of  Olives.  Having  secured  our 
rooms,  I  hasten  along  narrow  and  abominably  cob- 
bled streets,  mere  ditches  of  stone,  lined  with  mean 
shops,  to  the  Centre  of  the  Earth,  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre. 


n 


T  was  in  obedience  to  a  natural  but 
probably  mistaken  impulse,  that  I 
went  straight  to  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  during  my  first  hour 
in  the  city.  Perhaps  it  was  a  mistake  to  go  there 
at  all ;  certainly  I  should  have  waited  until  I  had 
become  more  accustomed  to  holy  places.  When 
a  person  enters  this  memorable  church,  as  I  did, 
expecting  to  see  only  two  sacred  sites,  and  is 
brought  immediately  face  to  face  with  thirty- 
seven,  his  mind  is  staggered,  and  his  credulity 
becomes  so  enfeebled  that  it  is  practically  useless 
to  him  thereafter  in  any  part  of  the  Holy  City. 
And  this  is  a  pity,  for  it  is  so  much  easier  and 
sweeter  to  believe  than  to  doubt. 

It  would  have  been  better,  also,  to  have  visited 
Jerusalem  many  years  ago ;  then  there  were  fewer 
sacred  sites  invented,  and  scholarly  investigation 
had  not  so  sharply  questioned  the  authenticity  of 
the  few.  But  I  thought  of  none  of  these  things  as 
I  stumbled  along  the  narrow  and  filthy  streets, 
which  are  stony  channels  of  mud  and  water,  rather 


IMPUDENT  TRADERS  39 

than  footpaths,  and  peeped  into  the  dirty  little 
shops  that  line  the  way.  I  thought  only  that  I  was 
in  Jerusalem ;  and  it  was  impossible,  at  first,  for 
its  near  appearance  to  empty  the  name  of  its  tre- 
mendous associations,  or  to  drive  out  the  image  of 
that  holy  city,  "conjubilant  with  song." 

I  had  seen  the  dome  of  the  church  from  the 
hotel  balcony ;  the  building  itself  is  so  hemmed  in 
by  houses  that  only  its  south  side,  in  which  is  the 
sole  entrance,  can  be  seen  from  the  street.  In 
front  of  this  entrance  is  a  small  square;  the  de- 
scent to  this  square  is  by  a  flight  of  steps  down 
Palmer  Street,  a  lane  given  up  to  the  traffic  in 
beads,  olive-wood,  ivory-carving,  and  the  thousand 
trinkets,  most  of  them  cheap  and  inartistic,  which 
absorb  the  industry  of  the  Holy  City.  The  little 
square  itself,  surrounded  by  ancient  buildings  on 
three  sides  and  by  the  blackened  walls  of  the 
church  on  the  north,  might  be  set  down  in  a  medi- 
aeval Italian  town  without  incongruity.  And  at 
the  hour  I  first  saw  it,  you  would  have  said  that 
a  market  or  fair  was  in  progress  there.  This, 
however,  I  found  was  its  normal  condition.  It 
is  always  occupied  by  a  horde  of  more  clamorous 
and  impudent  merchants  than  you  will  find  in  any 
other  place  in  the  Orient. 

It  is  with  some  difficulty  that  the  pilgrim  can 
get  through  the  throng  and  approach  the  portal. 
The  pavement  is  covered  with  heaps  of  beads, 
shells,  and  every  species  of  holy  fancy-work,  by 
which  are  seated  the  traders,  men  and  women,  in 
wait  for  customers.  The  moment  I  stopped  to 


40  JERUSALEM 

look  at  the  church,  and  it  was  discovered  that  I 
was  a  new-comer,  a  rush  was  made  at  me  from 
every  part  of  the  square,  and  I  was  at  once  the 
centre  of  the  most  eager  and  hungry  crowd. 
Sharp-faced  Greeks,  impudent  Jews,  fair-faced 
women  from  Bethlehem,  sleek  Armenians,  thrust 
strings  of  rude  olive  beads  and  crosses  into  my 
face,  forced  upon  my  notice  trumpery  carving  in 
ivory,  in  nuts,  in  seeds,  and  screamed  prices  and 
entreaties  in  chorus,  bidding  against  each  other 
and  holding  fast  to  me,  as  if  I  were  the  last  man, 
and  this  were  the  last  opportunity  they  would  ever 
have  of  getting  rid  of  their  rubbish.  Handfuls  of 
beads  rapidly  fell  from  five  francs  to  half  a  franc, 
and  the  dealers  insisted  upon  my  buying,  with  a 
threatening  air;  I  remember  one  hard-featured 
and  rapacious  wretch  who  danced  about  and  clung 
to  me,  and  looked  into  my  eyes  with  an  expression 
that  said  plainly,  "If  you  don't  buy  these  beads 
I  '11  murder  you."  My  recollection  is  that  I 
bought,  for  I  never  can  resist  a  persuasion  of  this 
sort.  Whenever  I  saw  the  fellow  in  the  square 
afterwards,  I  always  fancied  that  he  regarded  me 
with  a  sort  of  contempt,  but  he  made  no  further 
attempt  on  my  life. 

This  is  the  sort  of  preparation  that  one  daily  has 
in  approaching  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
The  greed  and  noise  of  traffic  around  it  are  as  fatal 
to  sentiment  as  they  are  to  devotion.  You  may  be 
amused  one  day,  you  may  be  indignant  the  next; 
at  last  you  will  be  weary  of  the  importunate  crowd ; 
and  the  only  consolation  you  can  get  from  these 


CHURCH   OF   THE   HOLY   SEPULCHRE  41 

daily  scenes  of  the  desecration  of  the  temple  of 
pilgrimage  is  the  proof  they  afford  that  this  is  in- 
deed Jerusalem,  and  that  these  are  the  legitimate 
descendants  of  the  thieves  whom  Christ  scourged 
from  the  precincts  of  the  Temple.  Alas  that  they 
should  thrive  under  the  new  dispensation  as  they 
did  under  the  old ! 

A  considerable  part  of  the  present  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  is  not  more  than  sixty  years 
old;  but  the  massive,  carved,  and  dark  south  por- 
tal, and  the  remains  of  the  old  towers  and  walls  on 
this  side,  may  be  eight  hundred.  There  has  been 
some  sort  of  a  church  here  ever  since  the  time  of 
Constantine  (that  is,  three  centuries  after  the  cru- 
cifixion of  our  Lord),  which  has  marked  the  spot 
that  was  then  determined  to  be  the  site  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre.  Many  a  time  the  buildings  have  been 
swept  away  by  fire  or  by  the  fanaticism  of  enemies, 
but  they  have  as  often  been  renewed.  There  would 
seem  at  first  to  have  been  a  cluster  of  buildings 
here,  each  of  which  arose  to  cover  a  newly  discov- 
ered sacred  site.  Happily,  all  the  sacred  places 
are  now  included  within  the  walls  of  this  many- 
roofed,  heterogeneous  mass  of  chapels,  shrines, 
tombs,  and  altars  of  worship  of  many  warring 
sects,  called  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 

Happily  also  the  exhaustive  discussion  of  the 
question  of  the  true  site  of  the  sepidchre,  conducted 
by  the  most  devout  and  accomplished  biblical 
scholars  and  the  keenest  antiquarians  of  the  age, 
relieves  the  ordinary  tourist  from  any  obligation 
to  enter  upon  an  investigation  that  would  interest 


42  JERUSALEM 

none  but  those  who  have  been  upon  the  spot.  No 
doubt  the  larger  portion  of  the  Christian  world  ac- 
cepts this  site  as  the  true  one. 

I  make  with  diffidence  a  suggestion  that  struck 
me,  although  it  may  not  be  new.  The  Pool  of 
Hezekiah  is  not  over  four  hundred  feet,  measured 
on  the  map,  from  the  dome  of  the  sepulchre.  Un- 
der the  church  itself  are  several  large  excavations 
in  the  rocks,  which  were  once  cisterns.  Ancient 
Jerusalem  depended  for  its  water  upon  these  cis- 
terns, which  took  the  drainage  from  the  roofs,  and 
upon  a  few  pools,  like  that  of  Hezekiah,  which 
were  fed  from  other  reservoirs,  such  as  Solomon's 
Pool,  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  city. 
These  cisterns  under  the  church  may  not  date  back 
to  the  time  of  our  Lord,  but  if  they  do,  they  were 
doubtless  at  that  time  within  the  walls.  And  of 
course  the  Pool  of  Hezekiah,  so  near  to  this  alleged 
site,  cannot  be  supposed  to  have  been  beyond  the 
walls. 

Within  the  door  of  the  church,  upon  a  raised 
divan  at  one  side,  as  if  this  were  a  bazaar  and  he 
were  the  merchant,  sat  a  fat  Turk,  in  official  dress, 
the  sneering  warden  of  this  Christian  edifice,  and 
the  perhaps  necessary  guardian  of  peace  within. 
His  presence  there,  however,  is  at  first  a  disagree- 
able surprise  to  all  those  who  rebel  at  owing  an 
approach  to  the  holy  place  to  the  toleration  of  a 
Moslem ;  but  I  was  quite  relieved  of  any  sense  of 
obligation  when,  upon  coming  out,  the  Turk  asked 
me  for  backsheesh ! 

Whatever  one  may  think  as  to  the  site  of  Cal- 


THE   HOLY   SEPULCHRE  43 

vary,  no  one  can  approach  a  spot  which  even  claims 
to  be  it,  and  which  has  been  for  centuries  the 
object  of  worship  of  millions,  and  is  constantly 
thronged  by  believing  pilgrims,  without  profound 
emotion.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I  en- 
tered the  church,  and  already  the  shades  of  evening 
increased  the  artificial  gloom  of  the  interior.  At 
the  very  entrance  lies  an  object  that  arrests  one. 
It  is  a  long  marble  slab  resting  upon  the  pavement, 
about  which  candles  are  burning.  Every  devout 
pilgrim  who  comes  in  kneels  and  kisses  it,  and  it 
is  sometimes  difficult  to  see  it  for  the  crowds  who 
press  about  it.  Underneath  it  is  supposed  to  be 
the  Stone  of  Unction  upon  which  the  Lord's  body 
was  laid,  according  to  the  Jewish  fashion,  for 
anointing,  after  he  was  taken  from  the  cross. 

I  turned  directly  into  the  rotunda,  under  the 
dome  of  which  is  the  stone  building  inclosing  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  a  ruder  structure  than  that  which 
covers  the  hut  and  tomb  of  St.  Francis  in  the 
church  at  Assisi.  I  met  in  the  way  a  procession 
of  Latin  monks,  bearing  candles,  and  chanting  as 
they  walked.  They  were  making  the  round  of  the 
holy  places  in  the  church,  this  being  their  hour  for 
the  tour.  The  sects  have  agreed  upon  certain 
hours  for  these  little  daily  pilgrimages,  so  that 
there  shall  be  no  collision.  A  rabble  of  pilgrims 
followed  the  monks.  They  had  just  come  from 
incensing  and  adoring  the  sepulchre,  and  the  crowd 
of  other  pilgrims  who  had  been  waiting  their  turn 
were  now  pressing  in  at  the  narrow  door.  As 
many  times  as  I  have  been  there,  I  have  always 


44  JERUSALEM 

seen  pilgrims  struggling  to  get  in  and  struggling 
to  get  out.  The  proud  and  the  humble  crowd 
there  together;  the  greasy  boor  from  beyond  the 
Volga  jostles  my  lady  from  Naples,  and  the  dainty 
pilgrim  from  America  pushes  her  way  through  a 
throng  of  stout  Armenian  peasants.  But  I  have 
never  seen  any  disorder  there,  nor  any  rudeness, 
except  the  thoughtless  eagerness  of  zeal. 

Taking  my  chance  in  the  line,  I  passed  into  the 
first  apartment,  called  the  Chapel  of  the  Angel,  a 
narrow  and  gloomy  ante-chamber,  which  takes  its 
name  from  the  fragment  of  stone  in  the  centre,  the 
stone  upon  which  the  angel  sat  after  it  had  been 
rolled  away  from  the  sepulchre.  A  stream  of 
light  came  through  the  low  and  narrow  door  of  the 
tomb.  Through  the  passage  to  this  vault  only  one 
person  can  enter  at  a  time,  and  the  tomb  will  hold 
no  more  than  three  or  four.  Stooping  along  the 
passage,  which  is  cased  with  marble  like  the  tomb, 
and  may  cover  natural  rock,  I  came  into  the  sacred 
place,  and  into  a  blaze  of  silver  lamps  and  can- 
dles. The  vault  is  not  more  than  six  feet  by  seven, 
and  is  covered  by  a  low  dome.  The  sepulchral 
stone  occupies  all  the  right  side,  and  is  the  object 
of  devotion.  It  is  of  marble,  supposed  to  cover 
natural  stone,  and  is  cracked  and  worn  smooth  on 
the  edge  by  the  kisses  of  millions  of  people.  The 
attendant  who  stood  at  one  end  opened  a  little  trap- 
door, in  which  lamp-cloths  were  kept,  and  let  me 
see  the  naked  rock,  which  is  said  to  be  that  of  the 
tomb.  While  I  stood  there  in  that  very  centre  of 
the  faith  and  longing  of  so  many  souls,  which 


COMPLETE   MISERY  45 

seemed  almost  to  palpitate  with  a  consciousness  of 
its  awful  position,  pilgrim  after  pilgrim,  on  bended 
knees,  entered  the  narrow  way,  kissed  with  fervor 
or  with  coldness  the  unresponsive  marble,  and 
withdrew  in  the  same  attitude.  Some  approached 
it  with  streaming  eyes  and  kissed  it  with  trembling 
rapture;  some  ladies  threw  themselves  upon  the 
cold  stone  and  sobbed  aloud.  Indeed,  I  did  not 
of  my  own  will  intrude  upon  these  acts  of  devo- 
tion, which  have  the  right  of  secrecy,  but  it  was 
some  time  before  I  could  escape,  so  completely 
was  the  entrance  blocked  up.  When  I  had  strug- 
gled out,  I  heard  chanting  from  the  hill  of  Gol- 
gotha, and  saw  the  gleaming  of  a  hundred  lights 
from  chapel  and  tomb  and  remote  recesses,  but  I 
cared  to  see  no  more  of  the  Temple  itself  that  day. 
The  next  morning  (it  was  the  7th  of  April)  was 
very  cold,  and  the  day  continued  so.  Without, 
the  air  was  keen,  and  within,  it  was  nearly  impos- 
sible to  get  warm  or  keep  so,  in  the  thick-walled 
houses,  which  had  gathered  the  damp  and  chill  of 
dungeons.  You  might  suppose  that  the  dirtiest 
and  most  beggarly  city  in  the  world  could  not  be 
much  deteriorated  by  the  weather,  but  it  is.  In  a 
cheerful,  sunny  day  you  find  that  the  desolation  of 
Jerusalem  has  a  certain  charm  and  attraction: 
even  a  tattered  Jew  leaning  against  a  ruined  wall, 
or  a  beggar  on  a  dunghill,  is  picturesque  in  the 
sunshine ;  but  if  you  put  a  day  of  chill  rain  and 
frosty  wind  into  the  city,  none  of  the  elements  of 
complete  misery  are  wanting.  There  is  nothing  to 
be  done,  day  or  night;  indeed,  there  is  nothing 


46  JERUSALEM 

ever  to  be  done  in  the  evening,  except  to  read  your 
guide-book,  —  that  is,  the  Bible,  —  and  go  to  bed. 
You  are  obliged  to  act  like  a  Christian  here,  what- 
ever you  are. 

Speaking  of  the  weather,  a  word  about  the  time 
for  visiting  Syria  may  not  be  amiss.  In  the  last 
part  of  March  the  snow  was  a  foot  deep  in  the 
streets;  parties  who  had  started  on  their  tour 
northward  were  snowed  in  and  forced  to  hide  in 
their  tents  three  days  from  the  howling  winter. 
There  is  pleasure  for  you  !  We  found  friends  in 
the  city  who  had  been  waiting  two  weeks  after 
they  had  exhausted  its  sights,  for  settled  weather 
that  would  permit  them  to  travel  northward.  To 
be  sure,  the  inhabitants  say  that  this  last  storm 
ought  to  have  been  rain  instead  of  snow,  according 
to  the  habit  of  the  seasons ;  and  it  no  doubt  would 
have  been  if  this  region  were  not  twenty -five  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  sea.  The  hardships  of  the 
Syrian  tour  are  enough  in  the  best  weather,  and  I 
am  convinced  that  our  dragoman  is  right  in  saying 
that  most  travelers  begin  it  too  early  in  the  spring. 

Jerusalem  is  not  a  formidable  city  to  the  ex- 
plorer who  is  content  to  remain  above  ground, 
and  is  not  too  curious  about  its  substructions  and 
buried  walls,  and  has  no  taste,  as  some  have,  for 
crawling  through  its  drains.  I  suppose  it  would 
elucidate  the  history  of  the  Jews  if  we  could  dig 
all  this  hill  away  and  lay  bare  all  the  old  founda- 
tions, and  ascertain  exactly  how  the  city  was  wa- 
tered. I,  for  one,  am  grateful  to  the  excellent 
man  and  great  scholar  who  crawled  on  his  hands 


Pool  of  Siloam 


ANCIENT   SITES  47 

and  knees  through  a  subterranean  conduit,  and 
established  the  fact  of  a  connection  between  the 
Fountain  of  the  Virgin  and  the  Pool  of  Siloam. 
But  I  would  rather  contribute  money  to  establish 
a  school  for  girls  in  the  Holy  City,  than  to  aid  in 
laying  bare  all  the  aqueducts  from  Ophel  to  the 
Tower  of  David.  But  this  is  probably  because  I 
do  not  enough  appreciate  the  importance  of  such 
researches  among  Jewish  remains  to  the  progress 
of  Christian  truth  and  morality  in  the  world.  The 
discoveries  hitherto  made  have  done  much  to  clear 
up  the  topography  of  ancient  Jerusalem ;  I  do  not 
know  that  they  have  yielded  anything  valuable  to 
art  or  to  philology,  any  treasures  illustrating  the 
habits,  the  social  life,  the  culture,  or  the  religion 
of  the  past,  such  as  are  revealed  beneath  the  soil 
of  Rome  or  in  the  ashes  of  Pompeii ;  it  is,  however, 
true  that  almost  every  tourist  in  Jerusalem  be- 
comes speedily  involved  in  all  these  questions  of 
ancient  sites,  —  the  identification  of  valleys  that 
once  existed,  of  walls  that  are  now  sunk  under  the 
accumulated  rubbish  of  two  thousand  years,  from 
thirty  feet  to  ninety  feet  deep,  and  of  foundations 
that  are  rough  enough  and  massive  enough  to  have 
been  laid  by  David  and  cemented  by  Solomon. 
And  the  fascination  of  the  pursuit  would  soon  send 
one  underground,  with  a  pickaxe  and  a  shovel. 
But  of  all  the  diggings  I  saw  in  the  Holy  City, 
that  which  interested  me  most  was  the  excavation 
of  the  church  and  hospital  of  the  chivalric  Knights 
of  St.  John ;  concerning  which  I  shall  say  a  word 
further  on. 


48  JERUSALEM 

The  present  walls  were  built  by  Sultan  Suleiman 
in  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  upon  foun- 
dations much  older,  and  here  and  there,  as  you 
can  see,  upon  big  blocks  of  Jewish  workmanship. 
The  wall  is  high  enough  and  very  picturesque  in 
its  zigzag  course  and  reentering  angles,  and,  I 
suppose,  strong  enough  to  hitch  a  horse  to;  but 
cannon-balls  would  make  short  work  of  it. 

Having  said  thus  much  of  the  topography,  gra- 
tuitously and  probably  unnecessarily,  for  every  one 
is  supposed  to  know  Jerusalem  as  well  as  he  knows 
his  native  town,  we  are  free  to  look  at  anything 
that  may  chance  to  interest  us.  I  do  not  expect, 
however,  that  any  words  of  mine  can  convey  to  the 
reader  a  just  conception  of  the  sterile  and  blasted 
character  of  this  promontory  and  the  country 
round  about  it,  or  of  the  squalor,  shabbiness,  and 
unpicturesqueness  of  the  city,  always  excepting  a 
few  of  its  buildings  and  some  fragments  of  anti- 
quity built  into  modern  structures  here  and  there. 
And  it  is  difficult  to  feel  that  this  spot  was  ever 
the  splendid  capital  of  a  powerful  state,  that  this 
arid  and  stricken  country  could  ever  have  supplied 
the  necessities  of  such  a  capital,  and,  above  all, 
that  so  many  Jews  could  ever  have  been  crowded 
within  this  cramped  space  as  Josephus  says  per- 
ished in  the  siege  by  Titus,  when  ninety-seven 
thousand  •  were  carried  into  captivity  and  eleven 
hundred  thousand  died  by  famine  and  the  sword. 
Almost  the  entire  Jewish  nation  must  have  been 
packed  within  this  small  area. 

Our  first  walk  through  the  city  was  in  the  Via 


THE   VIA   DOLOROSA  49 

Dolorosa,  as  gloomy  a  thoroughfare  as  its  name 
implies.  Its  historical  portion  is  that  steep  and 
often  angled  part  between  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and 
the  house  of  Pilate,  but  we  traversed  the  whole 
length  of  it  to  make  our  exit  from  St.  Stephen's 
Gate  toward  the  Mount  of  Olives.  It  is  only 
about  four  hundred  years  ago  that  this  street  ob- 
tained the  name  of  the  Via  Dolorosa,  and  that  the 
sacred  "stations"  on  it  were  marked  out  for  the 
benefit  of  the  pilgrim.  It  is  a  narrow  lane,  steep 
in  places,  having  frequent  sharp  angles,  running 
under  arches,  and  passing  between  gloomy  build- 
ings, enlivened  by  few  shops.  Along  this  way 
Christ  passed  from  the  Judgment  Hall  of  Pilate 
to  Calvary.  I  do  not  know  how  many  times  the 
houses  along  it  have  been  destroyed  and  rebuilt 
since  their  conflagration  by  Titus,  but  this  destruc- 
tion is  no  obstacle  to  the  existence  intact  of  all 
that  are  necessary  to  illustrate  the  Passion-pil- 
grimage of  our  Lord.  In  this  street  I  saw  the 
house  of  Simon  the  Cyrenian,  who  bore  the  cross 
after  Jesus ;  I  saw  the  house  of  St.  Veronica,  from 
which  that  woman  stepped  forth  and  gave  Jesus  a 
handkerchief  to  wipe  his  brow,  —  the  handkerchief, 
with  the  Lord's  features  imprinted  on  it,  which  we 
have  all  seen  exhibited  at  St.  Peter's  in  Rome; 
and  I  looked  for  the  house  of  the  Wandering 
Jew,  or  at  least  for  the  spot  where  he  stood  when 
he  received  that  awful  mandate  of  fleshly  immor- 
tality. In  this  street  are  recognized  the  several 
"stations"  that  Christ  made  in  bearing  the  cross; 
we  were  shown  the  places  where  he  fell,  a  stone 


50  JERUSALEM 

having  the  impress  of  his  hand,  a  pillar  broken  by 
his  fall,  and  also  the  stone  upon  which  Mary  sat 
when  he  passed  by.  Nothing  is  wanting  that  the 
narrative  requires.  We  saw  also  in  this  street  the 
house  of  Dives,  and  the  stone  on  which  Lazarus 
sat  while  the  dogs  ministered  unto  him.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  I  must  be  in  a  dream,  in  thus  beholding 
the  houses  and  places  of  resort  of  the  characters  in 
a  parable;  and  I  carried  my  dilemma  to  a  Cath- 
olic friend.  But  a  learned  father  assured  him  that 
there  was  no  doubt  that  this  is  the  house  of  Dives, 
for  Christ  often  took  his  parables  from  real  life. 
After  that  I  went  again  to  look  at  the  stone,  in  a 
corner  of  a  building  amid  a  heap  of  refuse,  upon 
which  the  beggar  sat,  and  to  admire  the  pretty 
stone  tracery  of  the  windows  in  the  house  of  Dives. 
At  the  end  of  the  street,  in  a  new  Latin  nun- 
nery, are  the  remains  of  the  house  of  Pilate,  which 
are  supposed  to  be  authentic.  The  present  estab- 
lishment is  called  the  convent  of  St.  Anne,  and  the 
community  is  very  fortunate,  at  this  late  day,  in 
obtaining  such  a  historic  site  for  itself.  We  had 
the  privilege  of  seeing  here  some  of  the  original 
rock  that  formed  part  of  the  foundations  of  Pilate's 
house;  and  there  are  three  stones  built  into  the 
altar  that  were  taken  from  the  pavement  of  Gab- 
batha,  upon  which  Christ  walked.  These  are  re- 
cent discoveries ;  it  appears  probable  that  the  real 
pavement  of  Gabbatha  has  been  found,  since 
Pilate's  house  is  so  satisfactorily  identified.  Span- 
ning the  street  in  front  of  this  convent  is  the  Ecce 
Homo  arch,  upon  which  Pilate  showed  Christ  to 


Via  Dolorosa 


IJM^l 


THE   TO  WEE   OF   DAVID  51 

the  populace.  The  ground  of  the  new  building 
was  until  recently  in  possession  of  the  Moslems, 
who  would  not  sell  it  for  a  less  price  than  seventy 
thousand  francs ;  the  arch  they  would  not  sell  at 
all ;  and  there  now  dwells,  in  a  small  chamber  on 
top  of  it,  a  Moslem  saint  and  hermit.  The  world 
of  pilgrims  flows  under  his  feet ;  he  looks  from  his 
window  upon  a  daily  procession  of  Christians,  who 
traverse  the  Via  Dolorosa,  having  first  signified 
their  submission  to  the  Moslem  yoke  in  the  Holy 
City  by  passing  under  this  arch  of  humiliation. 
The  hermit,  however,  has  the  grace  not  to  show 
himself,  and  few  know  that  he  sits  there,  in  the 
holy  occupation  of  letting  his  hair  and  his  nails 
grow. 

From  the  house  of  the  Roman  procurator  we 
went  to  the  citadel  of  Sultan  Suleiman.  This 
stands  close  by  the  Jaffa  Gate,  and  is  the  most 
picturesque  object  in.  all  the  circuit  of  the  walls, 
and,  although  the  citadel  is  of  modern  origin,  its 
most  characteristic  portion  lays  claim  to  great  an- 
tiquity. The  massive  structure  which  impresses 
all  strangers  who  enter  by  the  Jaffa  Gate  is  called 
the  Tower  of  Hippicus,  and  also  the  Tower  of 
David.  It  is  identified  as  the  tower  which  Herod 
built  and  Josephus  describes,  and  there  is  as  little 
doubt  that  its  foundations  are  the  same  that  David 
laid  and  Solomon  strengthened.  There  are  no 
such  stones  in  any  other  part  of  the  walls  as  these 
enormous  beveled  blocks;  they  surpass  those  in 
the  Harem  wall,  at  what  is  called  the  Jews'  Wail- 
ing Place.  The  tower  stands  upon  the  northwest 


62  JERUSALEM 

corner  of  the  old  wall  of  Zion,  and  being  the  point 
most  open  to  attack  it  was  most  strongly  built. 

It  seems  also  to  have  been  connected  with  the 
palace  on  Zion  which  David  built,  for  it  is  the 
tradition  that  it  was  from  this  tower  that  the  king 
first  saw  Bathsheba,  the  wife  of  Uriah,  when  "it 
came  to  pass  in  an  eventide  that  David  arose  from 
off  his  bed,  and  walked  upon  the  roof  of  the  king's 
house:  and  from  the  roof  he  saw  a  woman  washing 
herself ;  and  the  woman  was  very  beautiful  to  look 
upon."  On  the  other  side  of  the  city  gate  we  now 
look  down  upon  the  Pool  of  Bathsheba,  in  which 
there  is  no  water,  and  we  are  informed  that  it  was 
by  that  pool  that  the  lovely  woman,  who  was  des- 
tined to  be  the  mother  of  Solomon,  sat  when  the 
king  took  his  evening  walk.  Others  say  that  she 
sat  by  the  Pool  of  Gihon.  It  does  not  matter. 
The  subject  was  a  very  fruitful  one  for  the  artists 
of  the  Renaissance,  who  delighted  in  a  glowing 
reproduction  of  the  biblical  stories,  and  found  in 
such  incidents  as  this  and  the  confusion  of  Susanna 
themes  in  which  the  morality  of  the  age  could  ex- 
press itself  without  any  conflict  with  the  religion 
of  the  age.  It  is  a  comment  not  so  much  upon  the 
character  of  David  as  upon  the  morality  of  the  time 
in  which  he  lived,  that  although  he  repented,  and 
no  doubt  sincerely,  of  his  sin  when  reproved  for 
it,  his  repentance  did  not  take  the  direction  of  self- 
denial;  he  did  not  send  away  Bathsheba. 

This  square  old  tower  is  interiorly  so  much  in 
ruins  that  it  is  not  easy  to  climb  to  its  parapet, 
and  yet  it  still  has  a  guard-house  attached  to  it, 


THE   ARMENIAN   CONVENT  53 

and  is  kept  like  a  fortification;  a  few  rusty  old 
cannon,  under  the  charge  of  the  soldiers,  would 
injure  only  those  who  attempted  to  fire  them ;  the 
entire  premises  have  a  tumble -down,  Turkish  as- 
pect. The  view  from  the  top  is  the  best  in  the  city 
of  the  city  itself;  we  saw  also  from  it  the  hills  of 
Moab  and  a  bit  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

Close  by  is  the  Armenian  quarter,  covering  a 
large  part  of  what  was  once  the  hill  of  Zion.  I 
wish  it  were  the  Christian  quarter,  for  it  is  the 
only  part  of  the  town  that  makes  any  pretension 
to  cleanliness,  and  it  has  more  than  any  other  the 
aspect  of  an  abode  of  peace  and  charity.  This  is 
owing  to  its  being  under  the  government  of  one 
corporation,  for  the  Armenian  convent  covers 
nearly  the  entire  space  of  this  extensive  quarter. 
The  convent  is  a  singular,  irregular  mass  of  houses, 
courts,  and  streets,  the  latter  apparently  running 
over  and  under  and  through  the  houses ;  you  come 
unexpectedly  upon  stairways,  you  traverse  roofs, 
you  enter  rooms  and  houses  on  the  roofs  of  other 
houses,  and  it  is  difficult  to  say  at  any  time 
whether  you  are  on  the  earth  or  in  the  air.  The 
convent,  at  this  season,  is  filled  with  pilgrims,  over 
three  thousand  of  whom,  I  was  told,  were  lodged 
here.  We  came  upon  families  of  them  in  the 
little  rooms  in  the  courts  and  corridors,  or  upon 
the  roofs,  pursuing  their  domestic  avocations  as  if 
they  were  at  home,  cooking,  mending,  sleeping,  a 
boorish  but  simple-minded  lot  of  peasants. 

The  church  is  a  large  and  very  interesting 
specimen  of  religious  architecture  and  splendid, 


54  JERUSALEM 

barbaric  decoration.  In  the  vestibule  hang  the 
"bells."  These  are  long  planks  of  a  sonorous 
wood,  which  give  forth  a  ringing  sound  when 
struck  with  a  club.  As  they  are  of  different  sizes, 
you  get  some  variation  of  tone,  and  they  can  be 
heard  far  enough  to  call  the  inmates  of  the  convent 
to  worship.  The  interior  walls  are  lined  with 
ancient  blue  tiles  to  a  considerable  height,  and 
above  them  are  rude  and  inartistic  sacred  pictures. 
There  is  in  the  church  much  curious  inlaid  work  of 
mother-of-pearl  and  olive-wood,  especially  about 
the  doors  of  the  chapels,  and  one  side  shines 
with  the  pearl  as  if  it  were  incrusted  with  silver. 
Ostrich  eggs  are  strung  about  in  profusion,  with 
hooks  attached  for  hanging  lamps. 

The  first  day  of  our  visit  to  this  church,  in  one 
of  the  doorways  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  side  chapel, 
and  which  was  thickly  incrusted  with  mother-of- 
pearl,  stood  the  venerable  bishop,  in  a  light  rose- 
colored  robe  and  a  pointed  hood,  with  a  cross  in 
his  hand,  preaching  to  the  pilgrims,  who  knelt  on 
the  pavement  before  him,  talking  in  a  familiar  man- 
ner, and,  our  guide  said,  with  great  plainness  of 
speech.  The  Armenian  clergy  are  celebrated  for 
the  splendor  of  their  vestments,  and  I  could  not 
but  think  that  this  rose-colored  bishop,  in  his  shin- 
ing framework,  must  seem  like  a  being  of  another 
sphere  to  the  boors  before  him.  He  almost  im- 
posed upon  us. 

These  pilgrims  appeared  to  be  of  the  poorest 
agricultural  class  of  laborers,  and  their  costume  is 
uncouth  beyond  description.  In  a  side  chapel, 


PILGRIMS'  SHOES  55 

where  we  saw  tiles  on  the  walls  that  excited  our 
envy,  —  the  quaintest  figures  and  illustrations  of 
sacred  subjects,  —  the  clerks  were  taking  the 
names  of  pilgrims  just  arrived,  who  kneeled  before 
them  and  paid  a  Napoleon  each  for  their  lodging 
in  the  convent,  as  long  as  they  should  choose  to 
stay.  In  this  chapel  were  the  shoes  of  the  pilgrims 
who  had  gone  into  the  church,  a  motley  collection 
of  foot-gear,  covering  half  the  floor:  leather  and 
straw,  square  shoes  as  broad  as  long,  round  shoes, 
pointed  shoes,  old  shoes,  patched  shoes,  shoes  with 
the  toes  gone,  a  pathetic  gathering  that  told  of 
poverty  and  weary  travel  —  and  big  feet.  These 
shoes  were  things  to  muse  on,  for  each  pair,  made 
may  be  in  a  different  century,  seemed  to  have  a 
character  of  its  own,  as  it  stood  there  awaiting  the 
owner.  People  often  make  reflections  upon  a  pair 
of  shoes;  literature  is  full  of  them.  Poets  have 
celebrated  many  a  pretty  shoe,  —  a  queen's  slipper, 
it  may  be,  or  the  hobnail  brogan  of  a  peasant,  or, 
oftener,  the  tiny  shoes  of  a  child;  but  it  is  seldom 
that  one  has  an  opportunity  for  such  comprehen- 
sive moralizing  as  was  here  given.  If  we  ever 
regretted  the  lack  of  a  poet  in  our  party,  it  was 
now. 

We  walked  along  the  Armenian  walls,  past  the 
lepers'  quarter,  and  outside  the  walls,  through  the 
Gate  of  Zion,  or  the  Gate  of  the  Prophet  David 
as  it  is  also  called,  and  came  upon  a  continuation 
of  the  plateau  of  the  hill  of  Zion,  which  is  now 
covered  with  cemeteries,  and  is  the  site  of  the 
house  of  Caiaphas,  and  of  the  tomb  of  David  and 


56  JERUSALEM 

those  kings  of  Jerusalem  who  were  considered  by 
the  people  worthy  of  sepulture  here ;  for  the  Jews 
seem  to  have  brought  from  Egypt  the  notion  of 
refusing  royal  burial  to  their  bad  kings,  and  they 
had  very  few  respectable  ones. 

The  house  of  Caiaphas  the  high-priest  had  suf- 
fered a  recent  tumble-down,  and  was  in  such  a 
state  of  ruin  that  we  could  with  difficulty  enter 
it  or  recognize  any  likeness  of  a  house.  On  the 
premises  is  an  Armenian  chapel;  in  it  we  were 
shown  the  prison  in  which  Christ  was  confined, 
also  the  stone  door  of  the  sepulchre,  which  the 
Latins  say  the  Armenians  stole.  But  the  most 
remarkable  object  here  is  the  little  marble  column 
(having  carved  on  it  a  figure  of  Christ  bound  to  a 
pillar)  upon  which  the  cock  stood  and  crowed  when 
Peter  denied  his  Lord.  There  are  some  difficul- 
ties in  the  way  of  believing  this  now,  but  they  will 
lessen  as  the  column  gets  age. 

Outside  this  gate  lie  the  desolate  fields  strewn 
with  the  brown  tombstones  of  the  Greeks  and 
Armenians,  a  melancholy  spectacle.  Each  sect 
has  its  own  cemetery,  and  the  dead  sleep  peaceably 
enough,  but  the  living  who  bury  them  frequently 
quarrel.  I  saw  one  day  a  funeral  procession 
halted  outside  the  walls;  for  some  reason  the 
Greek  priest  had  refused  the  dead  burial  in  the 
grave  dug  for  him  in  the  cemetery ;  the  bier  was 
dumped  on  the  slope  beside  the  road,  and  half 
overturned ;  the  friends  were  sitting  on  the  ground, 
wrangling.  The  man  had  been  dead  three  days, 
and  the  coffin  had  been  by  the  roadside  in  this 


A   PATHLESS   NECROPOLIS  57 

place  since  the  day  before.  This  was  in  the  morn- 
ing; towards  night  I  saw  the  same  crowd  there, 
but  a  Turkish  official  appeared  and  ordered  the 
Greeks  to  bury  their  dead  somewhere,  and  that 
without  delay ;  to  bury  it  for  the  sake  of  the  public 
health,  and  quarrel  about  the  grave  afterwards  if 
they  must.  A  crowd  collected,  joining  with  fiery 
gesticulation  and  clamor  in  the  dispute,  the  shrill 
voices  of  women  being  heard  above  all ;  but  at  last, 
four  men  roughly  shouldered  the  box,  handling 
it  as  if  it  contained  merchandise,  and  trotted  off 
with  it. 

As  we  walked  over  this  pathless,  barren  necrop- 
olis, strewn,  hap-hazard  as  it  were,  with  shapeless, 
broken,  and  leaning  headstones,  it  was  impossible 
to  connect  with  it  any  sentiment  of  affection  or 
piety.  It  spoke,  like  everything  else  about  here, 
of  mortality,  and  seemed  only  a  part  of  that  his- 
torical Jerusalem  which  is  dead  and  buried,  in 
which  no  living  person  can  have  anything  more 
than  an  archaeological  interest.  It  was,  then,  with 
something  like  a  shock  that  we  heard  Demetrius, 
our  guide,  say,  pointing  to  a  rude  stone,  — 
"That  is  the  grave  of  my  mother!  " 
Demetrius  was  a  handsome  Greek  boy,  of  a 
beautiful  type  which  has  almost  disappeared  from 
Greece  itself,  and  as  clever  a  lad  as  ever  spoke  all 
languages  and  accepted  all  religions,  without  yield- 
ing too  much  to  any  one.  He  had  been  well  edu- 
cated in  the  English  school,  and  his  education  had 
failed  to  put  any  faith  in  place  of  the  superstition 
it  had  destroyed.  The  boy  seemed  to  be  numer- 


58  JERUSALEM 

ously  if  not  well  connected  in  the  city;  he  was  al- 
ways exchanging  a  glance  and  a  smile  with  some 
pretty,  dark-eyed  Greek  girl  whom  we  met  in  the 
way,  and  when  I  said,  "Demetrius,  who  was 
that?"  he  always  answered,  "That  is  my  cousin." 

The  boy  was  so  intelligent,  so  vivacious,  and 
full  of  the  spirit  of  adventure,  —  begging  me  a 
dozen  times  a  day  to  take  him  with  me  anywhere 
in  the  world,  —  and  so  modern,  that  he  had  not 
till  this  moment  seemed  to  belong  to  Jerusalem, 
nor  to  have  any  part  in  its  decay.  This  chance 
discovery  of  his  intimate  relation  to  this  necropolis 
gave,  if  I  may  say  so,  a  living  interest  to  it,  and 
to  all  the  old  burying-grounds  about  the  city,  some 
of  which  link  the  present  with  the  remote  past 
by  an  uninterrupted  succession  of  interments  for 
nearly  three  thousand  years. 

Just  beyond  this  expanse,  or  rather  in  part  of 
it,  is  a  small  plot  of  ground  surrounded  by  high 
whitewashed  walls,  the  entrance  to  which  is  secured 
by  a  heavy  door.  This  is  the  American  cemetery ; 
and  the  stout  door  and  thick  wall  are,  I  suppose, 
necessary  to  secure  its  graves  from  Moslem  insult. 
It  seems  not  to  be  visited  often,  for  it  was  with 
difficulty  that  we  could  turn  the  huge  key  in  the 
rusty  lock.  There  are  some  half-dozen  graves 
within;  the  graves  are  grass-grown  and  flower- 
sprinkled,  and  the  whole  area  is  a  tangle  of  unre- 
strained weeds  and  grass.  The  high  wall  cuts  off 
all  view,  but  we  did  not  for  the  time  miss  it, 
rather  liking  for  the  moment  to  be  secured  from  the 
sight  of  the  awful  desolation,  and  to  muse  upon 


THE   TOMB   OF    DAVID  59 

the  strange  fortune  that  had  drawn  to  be  buried 
here  upon  Mount  Zion,  as  a  holy  resting-place  for 
them,  people  alien  in  race,  language,  and  customs 
to  the  house  of  David,  and  removed  from  it  by 
such  spaces  of  time  and  distance;  people  to  whom 
the  worship  performed  by  David,  if  he  could  renew 
it  in  person  on  Zion,  would  be  as  distasteful  as  is 
that  of  the  Jews  in  yonder  synagogue. 

Only  a  short  distance  from  this  we  came  to  the 
mosque  which  contains  the  tomb  of  David  and 
probably  of  Solomon  and  other  kings  of  Judah. 
No  historical  monument  in  or  about  Jerusalem  is 
better  authenticated  than  this.  Although  now  for 
many  centuries  the  Moslems  have  had  possession 
of  it  and  forbidden  access  to  it,  there  is  a  tolerably 
connected  tradition  of  its  possession.  It  was  twice 
opened  and  relieved  of  the  enormous  treasure  in 
gold  and  silver  which  Solomon  deposited  in  it; 
once  by  Hyrcanus  Maccabseus,  who  took  what  he 
needed,  and  again  by  Herod,  who  found  very  little. 
There  are  all  sorts  of  stories  told  about  the  splen- 
dor of  this  tomb  and  the  state  with  which  the  Mos- 
lems surround  it.  But  they  envelop  it  in  so  much 
mystery  that  no  one  can  know  the  truth.  It  is 
probable  that  the  few  who  suppose  they  have  seen 
it  have  seen  only  a  sort  of  cenotaph  which  is  above 
the  real  tomb  in  the  rock  below.  The  room  which 
has  been  seen  is  embellished  with  some  display  of 
richness  in  shawls  and  hangings  of  gold  embroi- 
dery, and  contains  a  sarcophagus  of  rough  stone, 
and  lights  are  always  burning  there.  If  the  royal 
tombs  are  in  this  place,  they  are  doubtless  in  the 
cave  below. 


60  JERUSALEM 

Over  this  spot  was  built  a  church  by  the  early 
Christians ;  and  it  is  a  tradition  that  in  this  build- 
ing was  the  Coenaculum.  This  site  may  very  likely 
be  that  of  the  building  where  the  Last  Supper  was 
laid,  and  it  may  be  that  St.  Stephen  suffered  mar- 
tyrdom here,  and  that  the  Virgin  died  here;  the 
building  may  be  as  old  as  the  fourth  century,  but 
the  chances  of  any  building  standing  so  long  in 
this  repeatedly  destroyed  city  are  not  good.  There 
is  a  little  house  north  of  this  mosque  in  which  the 
Virgin  spent  the  last  years  of  her  life ;  if  she  did, 
she  must  have  lived  to  be  over  a  thousand  years 
old. 

On  the  very  brow  of  the  hill,  and  overlooking 
the  lower  pool  of  Gihon,  is  the  English  school, 
with  its  pretty  garden  and  its  cemetery.  We  saw 
there  some  excavations,  by  which  the  bed-rock  had 
been  laid  bare,  disclosing  some  stone  steps  cut  in 
it.  Search  is  being  made  here  for  the  Seat  of  Sol- 
omon, but  it  does  not  seem  to  me  a  vital  matter, 
for  I  suppose  he  sat  down  all  over  this  hill,  which 
was  covered  with  his  palaces  and  harems  and  other 
buildings  of  pleasure,  built  of  stones  that  "  were  of 
great  value,  such  as  are  dug  out  of  the  earth  for 
the  ornaments  of  temples  and  to  make  fine  pros- 
pects in  royal  palaces,  and  which  make  the  mines 
whence  they  are  dug  famous."  Solomon's  palace 
was  constructed  entirely  of  white  stone,  and  cedar- 
wood,  and  gold  and  silver;  in  it  "were  very  long 
cloisters,  and  those  situate  in  an  agreeable  place 
in  the  palace,  and  among  them  a  most  glorious 
dining-room  for  feastings  and  compotations ; "  in- 


THE   MONTEFIORE   TENEMENTS  61 

deed,  Josephus  finds  it  difficult  to  reckon  up  the 
variety  and  the  magnitude  of  the  royal  apartments, 
—  "  how  many  that  were  subterraneous  and  invisi- 
ble, the  curiosity  of  those  that  enjoyed  the  fresh 
air,  and  the  groves  for  the  most  delightful  pros- 
pect, for  avoiding  the  heat,  and  covering  their 
bodies."  If  this  most  luxurious  of  monarchs  in- 
troduced here  all  the  styles  of  architecture  which 
would  represent  the  nationality  of  his  wives,  as 
he  built  temples  to  suit  their  different  religions, 
the  hill  of  Zion  must  have  resembled,  on  a  small 
scale,  the  Munich  of  King  Ludwig  I. 

Opposite  the  English  school,  across  the  Valley 
of  Hinnom,  is  a  long  block  of  modern  buildings 
which  is  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  objects  out- 
side the  city.  It  was  built  by  another  rich  Jew, 
Sir  Moses  Montefiore,  of  London,  and  contains 
tenements  for  poor  Jews.  Sir  Moses  is  probably 
as  rich  as  Solomon  was  in  his  own  right,  and  he 
makes  a  most  charitable  use  of  his  money;  but  I 
do  not  suppose  that  if  he  had  at  his  command  the 
public  wealth  that  Solomon  had,  who  made  silver 
as  plentiful  as  stones  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem, 
he  could  materially  alleviate  the  lazy  indigence  of 
the  Jewish  exiles  here.  The  aged  philanthropist 
made  a  journey  hither  in  the  summer  of  1875,  to 
ascertain  for  himself  the  condition  of  the  Jews. 
I  believe  he  has  a  hope  of  establishing  manufac- 
tories in  which  they  can  support  themselves;  but 
the  minds  of  the  Jews  who  are  already  restored 
are  not  set  upon  any  sort  of  industry.  It  seems 
to  me  that  they  could  be  maintained  much  more 


62  JERUSALEM 

cheaply  if  they  were  transported  to  a  less  barren 
land. 

We  made,  one  day,  an  exploration  of  the  Jews' 
quarter,  which  enjoys  the  reputation  of  being  more 
filthy  than  the  Christian.  The  approach  to  it  is 
down  a  gutter  which  has  the  sounding  name  of  the 
Street  of  David;  it  was  bad  enough,  but  when  we 
entered  the  Jews'  part  of  the  city  we  found  our- 
selves in  lanes  and  gutters  of  incomparable  un- 
pleasantness, and  almost  impassable,  with  nothing 
whatever  in  them  interesting  or  picturesque,  ex- 
cept the  inhabitants.  We  had  a  curiosity  to  see 
if  there  were  here  any  real  Jews  of  the  type  that 
inhabited  the  city  in  the  time  of  our  Lord,  and 
we  saw  many  with  fair  skin  and  light  hair,  with 
straight  nose  and  regular  features.  The  persons 
whom  we  are  accustomed  to  call  Jews,  and  who 
were  found  dispersed  about  Europe  at  a  very  early 
period  of  modern  history,  have  the  Assyrian  fea- 
tures, the  hook  nose,  dark  hair  and  eyes,  and  not 
at  all  the  faces  of  the  fair-haired  race  from  which 
our  Saviour  is  supposed  to  have  sprung.  The  king- 
dom of  Israel,  which  contained  the  ten  tribes,  was 
gobbled  up  by  the  Assyrians  about  the  time  Rome 
was  founded,  and  from  that  date  these  tribes  do 
not  appear  historically.  They  may  have  entirely 
amalgamated  with  their  conquerors,  and  the  modi- 
fied race  subsequently  have  passed  into  Europe; 
for  the  Jews  claim  to  have  been  in  Europe  before 
the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  by  Titus,  in  which 
nearly  all  the  people  of  the  kingdom  of  Judah 
perished. 


THE   TRIBE   OF   BENJAMIN  63 

Some  scholars,  who  have  investigated  the  prob- 
lem offered  by  the  two  types  above  mentioned, 
think  that  the  Jew  as  we  know  him  in  Europe  and 
America  is  not  the  direct  descendant  of  the  Jews 
of  Jerusalem  of  the  time  of  Herod,  and  that  the 
true  offspring  of  the  latter  is  the  person  of  the 
light  hair  and  straight  nose  who  is  occasionally  to 
be  found  in  Jerusalem  to-day.  Until  this  ethno- 
logical problem  is  settled,  I  shall  most  certainly 
withhold  my  feeble  contributions  for  the  "restora- 
tion "  of  the  persons  at  present  doing  business  un- 
der the  name  of  Jews  among  the  Western  nations. 

But  we  saw  another  type  of  Jew,  or  rather  an- 
other variety,  in  this  quarter.  He  called  himself 
of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  and  is,  I  think,  the  most 
unpleasant  human  being  I  have  ever  encountered. 
Every  man  who  supposes  himself  of  this  tribe  wears 
a  dark,  corkscrew,  stringy  curl  hanging  down  eafch 
side  of  his  face,  and  the  appearance  of  nasty  effem- 
inacy which  this  gives  cannot  be  described.  The 
tribe  of  Benjamin  does  not  figure  well  in  sacred 
history,  —  it  was  left-handed ;  it  was  pretty  much 
exterminated  by  the  other  tribes  once  for  an  awful 
crime;  it  was  held  from  going  into  the  settled 
idolatry  of  the  kingdom  of  Israel  only  by  its  con- 
tiguity to  Judah,  —  but  it  was  better  than  its  de- 
scendants, if  these  are  its  descendants. 

More  than  half  of  the  eight  thousand  Jews  in 
Jerusalem  speak  Spanish  as  their  native  tongue, 
and  are  the  offspring  of  those  expelled  from  Spain 
by  Ferdinand.  Now  and  then,  I  do  not  know 
whether  it  was  Spanish  or  Arabic,  we  saw  a  good 


64  JERUSALEM 

face,  a  noble  countenance,  a  fine  Oriental  and  ven- 
erable type,  and  occasionally,  looking  from  a  win- 
dow, a  Jewish  beauty ;  but  the  most  whom  we  met 
were  debased,  misbegotten,  the  remnants  of  sin, 
squalor,  and  bad  living. 

We  went  into  two  of  the  best  synagogues,  —  one 
new,  with  a  conspicuous  green  dome.  They  are 
not  fine ;  on  the  contrary,  they  are  slatternly  places 
and  very  ill-kept.  On  the  benches  near  the  win- 
dows sat  squalid  men  and  boys  reading,  the  latter, 
no  doubt,  students  of  the  law;  all  the  passages, 
stairs,  and  by-rooms  were  dirty  and  disorderly,  as 
if  it  were  always  Monday  morning  there,  but  never 
washing-day;  rags  and  heaps  of  ancient  garments 
were  strewn  about;  and  occasionally  we  nearly 
stumbled  over  a  Jew,  indistinguishable  from  a  bun- 
dle of  old  clothes,  and  asleep  on  the  floor.  Even 
the  sanctuary  is  full  of  unkempt  people,  and  of  the 
evidences  of  the  squalor  of  the  quarter.  If  this 
is  a  specimen  of  the  restoration  of  the  Jews,  they 
had  better  not  be  restored  any  more. 

The  thing  to  do  (if  the  worldliness  of  the  expres- 
sion will  be  pardoned)  on  Friday  is  to  go  and  see 
the  Jews  wail,  as  in  Constantinople  it  is  to  see  the 
Sultan  go  to  prayer,  and  in  Cairo  to  hear  the  dar- 
wishes  howl.  The  performance,  being  an  open-air 
one,  is  sometimes  prevented  by  rain  or  snow,  but 
otherwise  it  has  not  failed  for  many  centuries. 
This  ancient  practice  is  probably  not  what  it  once 
was,  having  in  our  modern  days,  by  becoming  a 
sort  of  fashion,  lost  its  spontaneity;  it  will,  how- 
ever, doubtless  be  long  kept  up,  as  everything  of 


A  COMMUNITY    OF   LEPERS  65 

this  sort  endures  in  the  East,  even  if  it  should 
become  necessary  to  hire  people  to  wail. 

The  Friday  morning  of  the  day  chosen  for  our 
visit  to  the  wailing-place  was  rainy,  following  a 
rainy  night.  The  rough-paved  open  alleys  were 
gutters  of  mud,  the  streets  under  arches  (for  there 
are  shops  in  subterranean  constructions  and  old 
vaulted  passages)  were  damper  and  darker  than 
usual;  the  whole  city,  with  its  narrow  lanes,  and 
thick  walls,  and  no  sewers,  was  clammy  and  un- 
comfortable. We  loitered  for  a  time  in  the  dark 
and  grave-like  gold  bazaars,  where  there  is  but 
a  poor  display  of  attractions.  Pilgrims  from  all 
lands  were  sopping  about  in  the  streets;  conspic- 
uous among  them  were  Persians  wearing  high, 
conical  frieze  hats,  and  short-legged,  big-calfed 
Russian  peasant  women,  —  animated  meal-bags. 

We  walked  across  to  the  Zion  Gate,  and  mount- 
ing the  city  wall  there  —  an  uneven  and  somewhat 
broken,  but  sightly  promenade  —  followed  it  round 
to  its  junction  with  the  Temple  wall,  and  to  Rob- 
inson's Arch.  Underneath  the  wall  by  Zion  Gate 
dwell,  in  low  stone  huts  and  burrows,  a  consider- 
able number  of  lepers,  who  form  a  horrid  commu- 
nity by  themselves.  These  poor  creatures,  with 
toeless  feet  and  fingerless  hands,  came  out  of  their 
dens  and  assailed  us  with  piteous  cries  for  charity. 
What  could  be  done  ?  It  was  impossible  to  give 
to  all.  The  little  we  threw  them  they  fought 
for,  and  the  unsuccessful  followed  us  with  whetted 
eagerness.  We  could  do  nothing  but  flee,  and  we 
climbed  the  wall  and  ran  down  it,  leaving  Deme- 


66  JERUSALEM 

trius  behind  as  a  rear  guard.  I  should  have  had 
more  pity  for  them  if  they  had  not  exhibited  so 
much  maliciousness.  They  knew  their  power,  and 
brought  all  their  loathsomeness  after  us,  think- 
ing that  we  would  be  forced  to  buy  their  retreat. 
Two  hideous  old  women  followed  us  a  long  dis- 
tance, and  when  they  became  convinced  that  fur- 
ther howling  and  whining  would  be  fruitless,  they 
suddenly  changed  tone  and  cursed  us  with  health- 
ful vigor ;  having  cursed  us,  they  hobbled  home  to 
roost. 

This  part  of  the  wall  crosses  what  was  once 
the  Tyrophosan  Valley,  which  is  now  pretty  much 
filled  up ;  it  ran  between  Mount  Moriah,  on  which 
the  Temple  stood,  and  Mount  Zion.  It  was 
spanned  in  ancient  times  by  a  bridge  some  three 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  resting  on  stone  arches 
whose  piers  must  have  been  from  one  hundred  to 
two  hundred  feet  in  height;  this  connected  the 
Temple  platform  with  the  top  of  the  steep  side  of 
Zion.  It  was  on  the  Temple  end  of  this  bridge 
that  Titus  stood  and  held  parley  with  the  Jews  who 
refused  to  surrender  Zion  after  the  loss  of  Moriah. 

The  exact  locality  of  this  interesting  bridge  was 
discovered  by  Dr.  Robinson.  Just  north  of  the 
southwest  corner  of  the  Harem  wall  (that  is,  the 
Temple  or  Mount  Moriah  wall)  he  noticed  three 
courses  of  huge  projecting  stones,  which  upon 
careful  inspection  proved  to  be  the  segment  of  an 
arch.  The  spring  of  the  arch  is  so  plainly  to  be 
seen  now  that  it  is  a  wonder  it  remained  so  long 
unknown. 


WEEPING   AND   WAILING  67 

The  Wailing-Place  of  the  Jews  is  on  the  west 
side  of  the  Temple  inclosure,  a  little  to  the  north 
of  this  arch ;  it  is  in  a  long,  narrow  court  formed 
by  the  walls  of  modern  houses  and  the  huge  blocks 
of  stone  of  this  part  of  the  original  wall.  These 
stones  are  no  doubt  as  old  as  Solomon's  Temple, 
and  the  Jews  can  here  touch  the  very  walls  of  the 
platform  of  that  sacred  edifice. 

Every  Friday  a  remnant  of  the  children  of  Israel 
comes  here  to  weep  and  wail.  They  bring  their 
Scriptures,  and  leaning  against  the  honeycombed 
stone,  facing  it,  read  the  Lamentations  and  the 
Psalms,  in  a  wailing  voice,  and  occasionally  cry 
aloud  in  a  chorus  of  lamentation,  weeping,  blow- 
ing their  long  noses  with  blue  cotton  handkerchiefs, 
and  kissing  the  stones.  We  were  told  that  the 
smoothness  of  the  stones  in  spots  was  owing  to 
centuries  of  osculation.  The  men  stand  together 
at  one  part  of  the  wall,  and  the  women  at  another. 
There  were  not  more  than  twenty  Jews  present  as 
actors  in  the  solemn  ceremony  the  day  we  visited 
the  spot,  and  they  did  not  wail  much,  merely  read- 
ing the  Scriptures  in  a  mumbling  voice  and  sway- 
ing their  bodies  backward  and  forward.  Still  they 
formed  picturesque  and  even  pathetic  groups :  ven- 
erable old  men  with  long  white  beards  and  hooked 
noses,  clad  in  rags  and  shreds  and  patches  in  all 
degrees  of  decadence ;  lank  creatures  of  the  tribe 
of  Benjamin  with  the  corkscrew  curls ;  and  skinny 
old  women  shaking  with  weeping,  real  or  assumed. 

Very  likely  these  wailers  were  as  poor  and 
wretched  as  they  appeared  to  be,  and  their  tears 


68  JERUSALEM 

were  the  natural  outcome  of  their  grief  over  the 
ruin  of  the  Temple  nearly  two  thousand  years  ago. 
I  should  be  the  last  one  to  doubt  their  enjoyment 
of  this  weekly  bitter  misery.  But  the  demonstra- 
tion had  somewhat  the  appearance  of  a  set  and 
show  performance ;  while  it  was  going  on,  a  shrewd 
Israelite  went  about  with  a  box  to  collect  mites 
from  the  spectators.  There  were  many  more  trav- 
elers there  to  see  the  wailing  than  there  were  Jews 
to  wail.  This  also  lent  an  unfavorable  aspect  to 
the  scene.  I  myself  felt  that  if  this  were  genuine, 
I  had  no  business  to  be  there  with  my  undisguised 
curiosity;  and  if  it  were  not  genuine,  it  was  the 
poorest  spectacle  that  Jerusalem  offers  to  the  tour- 
ist. Cook's  party  was  there  in  force,  this  being 
one  of  the  things  promised  in  the  contract ;  and  I 
soon  found  myself  more  interested  in  Cook's  pil- 
grims than  in  the  others. 

The  Scripture  read  and  wailed  this  day  was  the 
fifty-first  Psalm  of  David.  If  you  turn  to  it  (you 
may  have  already  discovered  that  the  covert  pur- 
pose of  these-  desultory  notes  is  to  compel  you  to 
read  your  Bible),  you  will  see  that  it  expresses 
David's  penitence  in  the  matter  of  Bathsheba. 


Ill 


HE  sojourner  in  Jerusalem  falls  into 
the  habit  of  dropping  in  at  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  nearly  every  af- 
ternoon. It  is  the  centre  of  attraction. 
There  the  pilgrims  all  resort;  there  one  sees,  in  a 
day,  many  races,  and  the  costumes  of  strange  and 
distant  peoples ;  there  one  sees  the  various  worship 
of  the  many  Christian  sects.  There  are  always 
processions  making  the  round  of  the  holy  places, 
sect  following  sect,  with  swinging  censers,  each 
fumigating  away  the  effect  of  its  predecessor. 

The  central  body  of  the  church,  answering  to 
the  nave,  as  the  rotunda,  which  contains  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  answers  to  choir  and  apse,  is  the  Greek 
chapel,  and  the  most  magnificent  in  the  building. 
The  portion  of  the  church  set  apart  to  the  Latins, 
opening  also  out  of  the  rotunda,  is  merely  a  small 
chapel.  The  Armenians  have  still  more  contracted 
accommodations,  and  the  poor  Copts  enjoy  a  mere 
closet,  but  it  is  in  a  sacred  spot,  being  attached  to 
the  west  end  of  the  sepulchre  itself. 

On  the  western  side  of  the  rotunda  we  passed 
through  the  bare  and  apparently  uncared-for  chapel 


70  HOLY   PLACES    OF   THE   HOLY   CITY 

of  the  Syrians,  and  entered,  through  a  low  door, 
into  a  small  grotto  hewn  in  the  rock.  Lighted 
candles  revealed  to  us  some  tombs,  little  pits  cut 
in  the  rock,  two  in  the  side-wall  and  two  in  the 
floor.  We  had  a  guide  who  knew  every  sacred 
spot  in  the  city,  a  man  who  never  failed  to  satisfy 
the  curiosity  of  the  most  credulous  tourist. 

"Whose  tombs  are  these?  "  we  asked. 

"That  is  the  tomb  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and 
that  beside  it  is  the  tomb  of  Nicodemus." 

"How  do  you  know?  " 

"How  do  I  know?  You  ask  me  how  I  know. 
Have  n't  I  always  lived  in  Jerusalem?  I  was  born 
here." 

"Then  perhaps  you  can  tell  us,  if  this  tomb 
belonged  to  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  this  to 
Nicodemus,  whose  is  this  third  one?" 

"  Oh  yes,  that  other, "  replied  the  guide,  with  only 
a  moment's  paralysis  of  his  invention,  "that  is  the 
tomb  of  Arimathea  himself." 

One  afternoon  at  four,  service  was  going  on  in 
the  Greek  chapel,  which  shone  with  silver  and 
blazed  with  tapers,  and  was  crowded  with  pilgrims, 
principally  Eussians  of  both  sexes,  many  of  whom 
had  made  a  painful  pilgrimage  of  more  than  two 
thousand  miles  on  foot  merely  to  prostrate  them- 
selves in  this  revered  place.  A  Russian  bishop 
and  a  priest,  in  the  resplendent  robes  of  their 
office,  were  intoning  the  service  responsively.  In 
the  very  centre  of  this  chapel  is  a  round  hole  cov- 
ered with  a  grating,  and  tapers  are  generally  burn- 
ing about  it.  All  the  pilgrims  kneeled  there,  and 


Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 


A   BLITHE   BEGGAR  71 

kissed  the  grating  and  adored  the  hole.  I  had  the 
curiosity  to  push  my  way  through  the  throng  in 
order  to  see  the  object  of  devotion,  but  I  could 
discover  nothing.  It  is,  however,  an  important 
spot :  it  is  the  centre  of  the  earth;  though  why 
Christians  should  worship  the  centre  of  the  earth 
I  do  not  know.  The  Armenians  have  in  their 
chapel  also  a  spot  that  they  say  is  the  real  centre ; 
that  makes  three  that  we  know  of,  for  everybody 
understands  that  there  is  one  in  the  Kaaba  at 
Mecca. 

We  sat  down  upon  a  stone  bench  near  the  en- 
trance of  the  chapel,  where  we  could  observe  the 
passing  streams  of  people,  and  were  greatly  di- 
verted by  a  blithe  and  comical  beggar  who  had 
stationed  himself  on  the  pavement  there  to  inter- 
cept the  Greek  charity  of  the  worshipers  when 
they  passed  into  the  rotunda.  He  was  a  diminu- 
tive man  with  distorted  limbs ;  he  wore  a  peaked 
red  cap,  and  dragged  himself  over  the  pavement, 
or  rather  skipped  and  flopped  about  on  it  like  a 
devil-fish  on  land.  Never  was  seen  in  a  beggar 
such  vivacity  and  imperturbable  good-humor,  with 
so  much  deviltry  in  his  dancing  eyes. 

As  we  appeared  to  him  to  occupy  a  neutral  posi- 
tion as  to  him  and  his  victims,  he  soon  took  us 
into  his  confidence  and  let  us  see  his  mode  of  op- 
erations. He  said  (to  our  guide)  that  he  was  a 
Greek  from  Damascus,  —  oh  yes,  a  Christian,  a 
pilgrim,  who  always  came  down  here  at  this  sea- 
son, which  was  his  harvest-time.  He  hoped  (with 
a  wicked  wink)  that  his  devotion  would  be  re- 
warded. 


72  HOLY   PLACES   OF   THE   HOLY   CITY 

It  was  very  entertaining  to  see  him  watch  the 
people  coming  out,  and  select  his  victims,  whom 
he  would  indicate  to  us  by  a  motion  of  his  head  as 
he  flopped  towards  them.  He  appeared  to  rely  more 
upon  the  poor  and  simple  than  upon  the  rich,  and 
he  was  more  successful  with  the  former.  But 
he  rarely,  such  was  his  insight,  made  a  mistake. 
Whoever  gave  him  anything  he  thanked  with  the 
utmost  empressement  of  manner ;  then  he  crossed 
himself,  and  turned  around  and  winked  at  us,  his 
confederates.  When  an  elegantly  dressed  lady 
dropped  the  smallest  of  copper  coins  into  his  cap, 
he  let  us  know  his  opinion  of  her  by  a  significant 
gesture  and  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  But  no  mat- 
ter from  whom  he  received  it,  whenever  he  added 
a  penny  to  his  store  the  rascal  chirped  and  laughed 
and  caressed  himself.  He  was  in  the  way  of  being 
trodden  under  foot  by  the  crowd;  but  his  agility 
was  extraordinary,  and  I  should  not  have  been 
surprised  at  any  moment  if  he  had  vaulted  over  the 
heads  of  the  throng  and  disappeared.  If  he  failed 
to  attract  the  attention  of  an  eligible  pilgrim,  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  give  the  skirt  of  his  elect  a  jerk, 
for  which  rudeness  he  would  at  once  apologize  with 
an  indescribable  grimace  and  a  joke. 

When  the  crowd  had  passed,  he  slid  himself  into 
a  corner,  by  a  motion  such  as  that  with  which  a 
fish  suddenly  darts  to  one  side,  and  set  himself  to 
empty  his  pocket  into  his  cap  and  count  his  plun- 
der, tossing  the  pieces  into  the  air  and  catching 
them  with  a  chuckle,  crossing  himself  and  hugging 
himself  by  turns.  He  had  four  francs  and  a  half. 


THE   CHAPEL   OF  THE   APPAEITION  73 

When  he  had  finished  counting  his  money  he  put 
it  in  a  bag,  and  for  a  moment  his  face  assumed  a 
grave  and  business-like  expression.  We  thought 
he  would  depart  without  demanding  anything  of 
us.  But  we  were  mistaken ;  he  had  something  in 
view  that  he  no  doubt  felt  would  insure  him  a 
liberal  backsheesh.  Wriggling  near  to  us,  he  set 
his  face  into  an  expression  of  demure  humility, 
held  out  his  cap,  and  said,  in  English,  each  word 
falling  from  his  lips  as  distinctly  and  unnaturally 
as  if  he  had  been  a  wooden  articulating  machine,  — 

"  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  /will  give  you  rest." 

The  rascal's  impiety  lessened  the  charity  which 
our  intimacy  with  him  had  intended,  but  he  ap- 
peared entirely  content,  chirped,  saluted,  with 
gravity,  and,  with  a  flop,  was  gone  from  our  sight. 

At  the  moment,  a  procession  of  Franciscan 
monks  swept  by,  chanting  in  rich  bass  voices,  and 
followed,  as  usual,  by  Latin  pilgrims,  making  the 
daily  round  of  the  holy  places ;  after  they  had 
disappeared  we  could  still  hear  their  voices  and 
catch  now  and  again  the  glimmer  of  their  tapers 
in  the  vast  dark  spaces. 

Opposite  the  place  where  we  were  sitting  is  the 
Chapel  of  the  Apparition,  a  room  not  much  more 
than  twenty  feet  square;  it  is  the  Latin  chapel, 
and  besides  its  contiguity  to  the  sepulchre  has 
some  specialties  of  its  own.  The  chapel  is  prob- 
ably eight  hundred  years  old.  In  the  centre  of  the 
pavement  is  the  spot  upon  which  our  Lord  stood 
when  he  appeared  to  the  Virgin  after  the  resur- 


74  HOLY   PLACES   OF   THE   HOLY   CITY 

rection;  near  it  a  slab  marks  the  place  where  the 
three  crosses  were  laid  after  they  were  dug  up  by 
Helena,  and  where  the  one  on  which  our  Lord  was 
crucified  was  identified  by  the  miracle  that  it 
worked  in  healing  a  sick  man.  South  of  the  altar 
is  a  niche  in  the  wall,  now  covered  over,  but  a 
round  hole  is  left  in  the  covering.  I  saw  pilgrims 
thrust  a  long  stick  into  this  hole,  withdraw  it,  and 
kiss  the  end.  The  stick  had  touched  a  fragment 
of  the  porphyry  column  to  which  the  Saviour  was 
bound  when  he  was  scourged. 

In  the  semicircle'  at  the  east  end  of  the  nave  are 
several  interesting  places :  the  prison  where  Christ 
was  confined  before  his  execution,  a  chapel  dedi- 
cated to  the  centurion  who  pierced  the  side  of  our 
Lord,  and  the  spot  on  which  the  vestments  were 
divided.  From  thence  we  descend,  by  a  long  flight 
of  steps  partly  hewn  in  the  rock,  to  a  rude,  crypt- 
like  chapel,  in  the  heavy  early  Byzantine  style,  a 
damp,  cheerless  place,  called  the  Chapel  of  Helena. 
At  the  east  end  of  it  another  flight  of  steps  leads 
down  into  what  was  formerly  a  cistern,  but  is  now 
called  the  Chapel  of  the  Invention  of  the  Cross. 
Here  the  cross  was  found,  and  at  one  side  of  the 
steps  stands  the  marble  chair  in  which  the  mother 
of  Constantine  sat  while  she  superintended  the  dig- 
ging. Nothing  is  wanting  that  the  most  cred- 
ulous pilgrim  could  wish  to  see ;  that  is,  nothing 
is  wanting  in  spots  where  things  were.  This 
chapel  belongs  to  the  Latins;  that  of  Helena  to  the 
Greeks ;  the  Abyssinian  convent  is  above  both  of 
them. 


GOLGOTHA  75 

On  the  south  side  of  the  church,  near  the  en- 
trance, is  a  dark  room  called  the  Chapel  of  Adam, 
in  which  there  is  never  more  light  than  a  feeble 
taper  can  give.  I  groped  my  way  into  it  often,  in 
the  hope  of  finding  something ;  perhaps  it  is  pur- 
posely involved  in  an  obscurity  typical  of  the  ori- 
gin of  mankind.  There  is  a  tradition  that  Adam 
was  buried  on  Golgotha,  but  the  only  tomb  in  this 
chapel  is  that  of  Melchizedek!  The  chapel  for- 
merly contained  that  of  Godfrey  de  Bouillon, 
elected  the  first  king  of  Jerusalem  in  1099,  and  of 
Baldwin,  his  brother.  We  were  shown  the  two- 
handed  sword  of  Godfrey,  with  which  he  clove  a 
Saracen  lengthwise  into  two  equal  parts,  a  gen- 
uine relic  of  a  heroic  and  barbarous  age.  At  the 
end  of  this  chapel  a  glimmering  light  lets  us  see 
through  a  grating  a  crack  in  the  rock  made  by  the 
earthquake  at  the  crucifixion. 

The  gloom  of  this  mysterious  chapel,  which  is 
haunted  by  the  spectre  of  that  dim  shadow  of 
unreality,  Melchizedek,  prepared  us  to  ascend  to 
Golgotha,  above  it.  The  chapels  of  Golgotha  are 
supported  partly  upon  a  rock  which  rises  fifteen 
feet  above  the  pavement  of  the  church.  The  first 
is  that  of  the  Elevation  of  the  Cross,  and  belongs 
to  the  Greeks.  Under  the  altar  at  the  east  end  is 
a  hole  in  the  marble,  which  is  over  the  hole  in  the 
rock  in  which  the  cross  stood;  on  either  side  of  it 
are  the  holes  of  the  crosses  of  the  two  thieves. 
The  altar  is  rich  with  silver  and  gold  and  jewels. 
The  chamber,  when  we  entered  it,  was  blazing  with 
light,  and  Latin  monks  were  performing  their 


76  HOLY   PLACES   OF  THE   HOLY   CITY 

adorations,  with  chanting  and  swinging  of  incense, 
before  the  altar.  A  Greek  priest  stood  at  one 
side,  watching  them,  and  there  was  plain  contempt 
in  his  face.  The  Greek  priests  are  not  wanting  in 
fanaticism,  but  they  never  seem  to  me  to  possess 
the  faith  of  the  Latin  branch  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  When  the  Latins  had  gone,  the  Greek 
took  us  behind  the  altar,  and  showed  us  another 
earthquake-rent  in  the  rock. 

Adjoining  this  chapel  is  the  Latin  Chapel  of  the 
Crucifixion,  marking  the  spot  where  Christ  was 
nailed  to  the  cross ;  from  that  we  looked  through  a 
window  into  an  exterior  room  dedicated  to  the  Sor- 
rowing Virgin,  where  she  stood  and  beheld  the 
crucifixion.  Both  these  latter  rooms  do  not  rest 
upon  the  rock,  but  upon  artificial  vaults,  and  of 
course  can  mark  the  spots  commemorated  by  them 
only  in  space. 

Perhaps  this  sensation  of  being  in  the  air,  and 
of  having  no  standing-place  even  for  tradition, 
added  something  to  the  strange  feeling  that  took 
possession  of  me ;  a  mingled  feeling  that  was  no 
more  terror  than  is  the  apprehension  that  one 
experiences  at  a  theatre  from  the  manufactured 
thunder  behind  the  scenes.  I  suppose  it  arose 
from  cross  currents  meeting  in  the  mind,  the 
thought  of  the  awful  significance  of  the  events  here 
represented  and  the  sight  of  this  theatrical  represen- 
tation. The  dreadful  name,  Golgotha,  the  gloom 
of  this  part  of  the  building,  —  a  sort  of  mount  of 
darkness,  with  its  rent  rock  and  preternatural 
shadow,  —  the  blazing  contrast  of  the  chapel  where 


SINCERITY   OF   THE  PILGRIMS  77 

the  cross  stood  with  the  dark  passages  about  it,  the 
chanting  and  flashing  lights  of  pilgrims  ever  com- 
ing and  going,  the  neighborhood  of  the  sepulchre 
itself,  were  well  calculated  to  awaken  an  imagi- 
nation the  least  sensitive.  And,  so  susceptible  is 
the  mind  to  the  influence  of  that  mental  electricity 
—  if  there  is  no  better  name  for  it  —  which  pro- 
ceeds from  a  mass  of  minds  having  one  thought 
(and  is  sometimes  called  public  opinion),  be  it  true 
or  false,  that  whatever  one  may  believe  about  the 
real  location  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  he  cannot  wit- 
ness, unmoved,  the  vast  throng  of  pilgrims  to  these 
shrines,  representing  as  they  do  every  section  of 
the  civilized  and  of  the  uncivilized  world  into 
which  a  belief  in  the  cross  has  penetrated.  The 
undoubted  sincerity  of  the  majority  of  the  pilgrims 
who  worship  here  makes  us  for  the  time  forget  the 
hundred  inventions  which  so  often  allure  and  as 
often  misdirect  that  worship. 

The  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  offers  at  all 
times  a  great  spectacle,  and  one  always  novel,  in 
the  striking  ceremonies  and  the  people  who  assist 
at  them.  One  of  the  most  extraordinary,  that  of 
the  Holy  Fire,  at  the  Greek  Easter,  which  is  three 
weeks  later  than  the  Roman,  and  which  has  been 
so  often  described,  we  did  not  see.  I  am  not  sure 
that  we  saw  even  all  the  thirty-seven  holy  places 
and  objects  in  the  church.  It  may  not  be  unprofit- 
able to  set  down  those  I  can  recall.  They  are,  — 

The  Stone  of  Unction. 

The  spot  where  the  Virgin  Mary  stood  when  the 
body  of  our  Lord  was  anointed. 


78  HOLY  PLACES  OF  THE  HOLY  CITY 

The  Holy  Sepulchre. 

The  stone  on  which  the  angel  sat. 

The  tombs  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea  and  Nicode- 
mus. 

The  well  of  Helena. 

The  stone  marking  the  spot  where  Christ  in  the 
form  of  a  gardener  appeared  to  Mary  Magdalene. 

The  spot  where  Mary  Magdalene  stood. 

The  spot  where  our  Lord  appeared  to  the  Virgin 
after  his  resurrection. 

The  place  where  the  true  cross,  discovered  by 
Helena,  was  laid,  and  identified  by  a  miracle. 

The  fragment  of  the  Column  of  Flagellation. 

The  prison  of  our  Lord. 

The  "Bonds  of  Christ,"  a  stone  with  two  holes 
in  it. 

The  place  where  the  title  on  the  cross  was  pre- 
served. 

The  place  of  the  division  of  the  vestments. 

The  centre  of  the  earth  (Greek). 

The  centre  of  the  earth  (Armenian). 

The  altar  of  the  centurion  who  pierced  the  body 
of  Christ. 

The  altar  of  the  penitent  thief. 

The  Chapel  of  Helena. 

The  chair  in  which  Helena  sat  when  the  cross 
was  found. 

The  spot  where  the  cross  was  found. 

The  Chapel  of  the  Mocking,  with  a  fragment  of 
the  column  upon  which  Jesus  sat  when  they  crowned 
him  with  thorns. 

The  Chapel  of  the  Elevation  of  the  Cross. 


THE  THIRTY-SEVEN   HOLY   OBJECTS  79 

The  spot  where  the  cross  stood. 

The  spots  where  the  crosses  of  the  thieves  stood. 

The  rent  rock  near  the  cross. 

The  spot  where  Christ  was  nailed  to  the  cross. 

The  spot  where  the  Virgin  stood  during  the  cru- 
cifixion. 

The  Chapel  of  Adam. 

The  tomb  of  Melchizedek. 

The  rent  rock  in  the  Chapel  of  Adam. 

The  spots  where  the  tombs  of  Godfrey  and  Bald- 
win stood. 

No,  we  did  not  see  them  all.  Besides,  there 
used  to  be  a  piece  of  the  cross  in  the  Latin  chapel ; 
but  the  Armenians  are  accused  of  purloining  it. 
All  travelers,  I  suppose,  have  seen  the  celebrated 
Iron  Crown  of  Lombardy,  which  is  kept  in  the 
church  at  Monza,  near  Milan.  It  is  all  of  gold 
except  the  inner  band,  which  is  made  of  a  nail  of 
the  cross  brought  from  Jerusalem  by  Helena.  The 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  has  not  all  the  relics 
it  might  have,  but  it  is  as  rich  in  them  as  any 
church  of  its  age. 

A  place  in  Jerusalem  almost  as  interesting  to 
Christians  as  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  more  inter- 
esting to  antiquarians,  is  the  Harem,  or  Temple 
area,  with  its  ancient  substructions  and  its  re- 
splendent Saracenic  architecture.  It  is  largely  an 
open  place,  green  with  grass ;  it  is  clean  and  whole- 
some, and  the  sun  lies  lovingly  on  it.  There  is  no 
part  of  the  city  where  the  traveler  would  so  like 
to  wander  at  will,  to  sit  and  muse,  to  dream  away 
the  day  on  the  walls  overhanging  the  valley  of  the 


80  HOLY   PLACES    OF   THE   HOLY    CITY 

Kidron,  to  recall  at  leisure  all  the  wonderful  story 
of  its  splendor  and  its  disaster.  But  admission  to 
the  area  is  had  only  by  special  permit.  There- 
fore the  ordinary  tourist  goes  not  so  much  as  he 
desires  to  the  site  of  the  Temple  that  Solomon 
built,  and  of  the  porch  where  Jesus  walked  and 
talked  with  his  disciples.  When  he  does  go,  he 
feels  that  he  treads  upon  firm  historical  ground. 

We  walked  down  the  gutter  (called  street)  of 
David;  we  did  not  enter  the  Harem  area  by  the 
Bab  es-Silsileh  (Gate  of  the  Chain),  but  turned 
northward  and  went  in  by  the  Bab  el-Katanm 
(Gate  of  the  Cotton -Merchants),  which  is  identified 
with  the  Beautiful  Gate  of  the  Temple.  Both 
these  gates  have  twisted  columns  and  are  graceful 
examples  of  Saracenic  architecture.  As  soon  as 
we  entered  the  gate,  the  splendor  of  the  area  burst 
upon  us ;  we  passed  instantly  out  of  the  sordid  city 
into  a  green  plain,  out  of  which  —  it  could  have 
been  by  a  magic  wand  only  —  had  sprung  the  most 
charming  creations  in  stone :  minarets,  domes,  col- 
onnades, cloisters,  pavilions,  columns  of  all  orders, 
horseshoe  arches  and  pointed  arches,  every  joyous 
architectural  thought  expressed  in  shining  marble 
and  brilliant  color. 

Our  dragoman,  Abd-el-Atti,  did  the  honors  of 
the  place  with  the  air  of  proprietorship.  For  the 
first  time  in  the  Holy  City  he  felt  quite  at  home, 
and  appeared  to  be  on  the  same  terms  with  the 
Temple  area  that  he  is  with  the  tombs  of  the  Pha- 
raohs. The  Christian  antiquities  are  too  much 
for  him,  but  his  elastic  mind  expands  readily  to 


THE   TEMPLE   AREA  81 

all  the  marvels  of  the  Moslem  situation.  The 
Moslems,  indeed,  consider  that  they  have  a  much 
better  right  to  the  Temple  than  the  Christians, 
and  Abd-el-Atti  acted  as  our  cicerone  in  the  pre- 
cincts with  all  the  delight  of  a  boy  and  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  faith.  It  was  not  unpleasant  to 
him,  either,  to  have  us  see  that  he  was  treated 
with  consideration  by  the  mosque  attendants  and 
ulemas,  and  that  he  was  well  known  and  could 
pass  readily  into  the  most  reserved  places.  He 
had  said  his  prayers  that  morning,  at  twelve,  in 
this  mosque,  a  privilege  only  second  to  that  of 
praying  in  the  mosque  at  Mecca,  and  was  in  high 
spirits,  as  one  who  had  (if  the  expression  is  allow- 
able) got  a  little  ahead  in  the  matter  of  devotion. 

Let  me  give  in  a  few  words,  without  any  quali- 
fications of  doubt,  what  seem  to  be  the  well-ascer- 
tained facts  about  this  area.  It  is  at  present  a 
level  piece  of  ground  (in  the  nature  of  a  platform, 
since  it  is  sustained  on  all  sides  by  walls),  a  quad- 
rilateral with  its  sides  not  quite  parallel,  about 
fifteen  hundred  feet  long  by  one  thousand  feet 
broad.  The  northern  third  of  it  was  covered  by 
the  Fortress  of  Antonia,  an  ancient  palace  and 
fortress,  rebuilt  with  great  splendor  by  Herod. 
The  small  remains  of  it  in  the  northeast  corner 
are  now  barracks. 

This  level  piece  of  ground  is  nearly  all  artificial, 
either  filled  in  or  built  up  on  arches.  The  original 
ground  (Mount  Moriah)  was  a  rocky  hill,  the  sum- 
mit of  which  was  the  rock  about  which  there  has 
been  so  much  controversy.  Near  the  centre  of  this 


82  HOLY   PLACES   OF   THE   HOLY   CITY 

ground,  and  upon  a  broad  raised  platform,  paved 
with  marble,  stands  the  celebrated  mosque  Kubbet 
es-Sukhrah,  "The  Dome  of  the  Rock."  It  is 
built  over  the  Sacred  Rock. 

This  rock  marks  the  site  of  the  threshing-floor 
of  Oman,  the  Jebusite,  which  David  bought, 
purchasing  at  the  same  time  the  whole  of  Mount 
Moriah.  Solomon  built  the  Temple  over  this 
rock,  and  it  was  probably  the  "stone  of  sacrifice." 
At  the  time  Solomon  built  the  Temple,  the  level 
place  on  Moriah  was  scarcely  large  enough  for  the 
naos  of  that  building,  and  Solomon  extended  the 
ground  to  the  east  and  south  by  erecting  arches 
and  filling  in  on  top  of  them,  and  constructing 
a  heavy  retaining-wall  outside.  On  the  east  side 
also  he  built  a  porch,  or  magnificent  colonnade, 
which  must  have  produced  a  fine  effect  of  Oriental 
grandeur  when  seen  from  the  deep  valley  below  or 
from  the  Mount  of  Olives  opposite. 

To  this  rock  the  Jews  used  to  come,  in  the 
fourth  century,  and  anoint  it  with  oil,  and  wail 
over  it,  as  the  site  of  the  Temple.  On  it  once 
stood  a  statue  of  Hadrian.  When  the  Moslems 
captured  Jerusalem,  it  became,  what  it  has  ever 
since  been,  one  of  their  most  venerated  places. 
The  Khalif  Omar  cleared  away  the  rubbish  from 
it,  and  built  over  it  a  mosque.  The  Khalif  Abd- 
el-Melek  began  to  rebuild  it  in  A.  D.  686.  Dur- 
ing the  Crusades  it  was  used  as  a  Christian  church. 
Allowing  for  decay  and  repairs,  the  present  mosque 
is  probably  substantially  that  built  by  Abd-el- 
Melek. 


FAIRY-LIKE   BUILDINGS  83 

At  the  extreme  south  of  the  area  is  the  vast 
Mosque  of  Aksa,  a  splendid  basilica  with  seven 
aisles,  which  may  or  may  not  be  the  Church  of  St. 
Mary  built  by  Justinian  in  the  sixth  century; 
architects  differ  about  it.  This  question  it  seems 
to  me  very  difficult  to  decide  from  the  architecture 
of  the  building,  because  of  the  habit  that  Chris- 
tians and  Moslems  both  had  of  appropriating  col- 
umns and  capitals  of  ancient  structures  in  their 
buildings ;  and  because  the  Moslems  at  that  time 
used  both  the  round  and  the  pointed  arch. 

This  platform  is  beyond  all  comparison  the  most 
beautiful  place  in  Jerusalem,  and  its  fairy-like 
buildings,  when  seen  from  the  hill  opposite,  give 
to  the  city  its  chief  claim  to  Oriental  picturesque- 
ness. 

The  dome  of  the  mosque  Kubbet  es-Sukhrah  is 
perhaps  the  most  beautiful  in  the  world;  it  seems 
to  float  in  the  air  like  a  blown  bubble ;  this  effect 
is  produced  by  a  slight  drawing  in  of  the  base. 
This  contraction  of  the  dome  is  not  sufficient  to 
give  the  spectator  any  feeling  of  insecurity,  or  to 
belittle  this  architectural  marvel  to  the  likeness  of 
a  big  toy ;  the  builder  hit  the  exact  mean  between 
massiveness  and  expanding  lightness.  The  mosque 
is  octagonal  in  form,  and  although  its  just  propor- 
tions make  it  appear  small,  it  is  a  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  in  diameter ;  outside  and  in,  it  is  a  blaze 
of  color  in  brilliant  marbles,  fine  mosaics,  stained 
glass,  and  beautiful  Saracenic  tiles.  The  lower 
part  of  the  exterior  wall  is  covered  with  colored 
marbles  in  intricate  patterns;  above  are  pointed 


84  HOLY    PLACES    OF   THE   HOLY   CITY 

windows  with  stained  glass;  and  the  spaces  be- 
tween the  windows  are  covered  by  glazed  tiles, 
with  arabesque  designs  and  very  rich  in  color.  In 
the  interior,  which  has  all  the  soft  warmth  and 
richness  of  Persian  needlework,  are  two  corridors, 
with  rows  of  columns  and  pillars ;  within  the  in- 
ner row  is  the  Sacred  Rock. 

This  rock,  which  is  the  most  remarkable  stone 
in  the  world,  if  half  we  hear  of  it  be  true,  and 
which  by  a  singular  fortune  is  sacred  to  three  re- 
ligions, is  an  irregular  boulder,  standing  some  five 
feet  above  the  pavement,  and  is  something  like 
sixty  feet  long.  In  places  it  has  been  chiseled, 
steps  are  cut  on  one  side,  and  various  niches  are 
hewn  in  it;  a  round  hole  pierces  it  from  top  to 
bottom.  The  rock  is  limestone,  a  little  colored 
with  iron,  and  beautiful  in  spots  where  it  has  been 
polished.  One  would  think  that  by  this  time  it 
ought  to  be  worn  smooth  all  over. 

If  we  may  believe  the  Moslems  and  doubt  our 
own  senses,  this  rock  is  suspended  in  the  air,  hav- 
ing no  support  on  any  side.  It  was  to  this  rock 
that  Mohammed  made  his  midnight  journey  on  El 
Burak;  it  was  from  here  that  he  ascended  into 
Paradise,  an  excursion  that  occupied  him  alto- 
gether only  forty  minutes.  It  is,  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  the  miraculous  suspension  of  this  stone  that 
is  the  basis  of  the  Christian  fable  of  the  suspension 
of  Mohammed's  coffin, — a  miracle  unknown  to 
all  Moslems  of  whom  I  have  inquired  concerning  it. 

"Abd-el-Atti,"  I  said,  "does  this  rock  rest  on 
nothing?" 


THE  NOBLE  CAVE  85 

"So  I  have  hunderstood ;  thim  say  so." 

"  But  do  you  believe  it  ?  " 

"  When  I  read  him,  I  believe ;  when  I  come  and 
see  him,  I  can't  help  what  I  see." 

At  the  south  end  of  the  rock  we  descended  a 
flight  of  steps  and  stood  under  the  rock  in  what  is 
called  the  Noble  Cave,  a  small  room  about  six  feet 
high,  plastered  and  whitewashed.  This  is  sup- 
posed to  be  the  sink  into  which  the  blood  of  the 
Jewish  sacrifices  drained.  The  plaster  and  white- 
wash hide  the  original  rock,  and  give  the  Moslems 
the  opportunity  to  assert  that  there  is  no  rock 
foundation  under  the  big  stone. 

"But,"  we  said  to  Abd-el-Atti,  "if  this  rock 
hangs  in  the  air,  why  cannot  we  see  all  around  it? 
Why  these  plaster  walls  that  seem  to  support  it?  " 

"  So  him  used  to  be.  This  done  so,  I  hear,  on 
account  of  de  women.  Thim  come  here,  see  this 
rock,  thim  berry  much  frightened.  Der  little 
shild,  what  you  call  it,  get  born  in  de  world  before 
him  wanted.  So  thim  make  this  wall  under  it." 

There  are  four  altars  in  this  cave,  one  of  them 
dedicated  to  David;  here  the  Moslem  prophets, 
Abraham,  David,  Solomon,  and  Jesus,  used  to 
pray.  In  the  rock  is  a  round  indentation  made 
by  Mohammed's  head  when  he  first  attempted  to 
rise  to  heaven ;  near  it  is  the  hole  through  which 
he  rose.  On  the  upper  southeast  corner  of  the 
rock  is  the  print  of  the  prophet's  foot,  and  close 
to  it  the  print  of  the  hand  of  the  angel  Michael, 
who  held  the  rock  down  from  following  Moham- 
med into  the  skies. 


86  HOLT   PLACES   OF  THE   HOLY  CITY 

In  the  mosque  above,  Abd-el-Atti  led  us,  with 
much  solemnity,  t*>  a  small  stone  set  in  the  pave- 
ment near  the  north  entrance.  It  was  perforated 
with  holes,  in  some  of  which  were  brass  nails. 

"How  many  holes  you  make  'em  there?" 

"Thirteen." 

"How  many  got  nails ?  " 

"Four." 

"Not  so  many.  Only  three  and  a  half  nails. 
Used  to  be  thirteen  nails.  Now  only  three  and  a 
half.  When  these  gone,  then  the  world  come  to 
an  end.  I  t'ink  it  not  berry  long." 

"I  should  think  the  Moslems  would  watch  this 
stone  very  carefully." 

"  What  difference?  You  not  t'ink  it  come  when 
de  time  come?  " 

We  noticed  some  pieces  of  money  on  the  stone, 
and  asked  why  that  was. 

"Whoever  he  lay  backsheesh  on  this  stone,  he 
certain  to  go  into  Paradise,  and  be  took  by  our 
prophet  in  his  bosom." 

We  wandered  for  some  time  about  the  green 
esplanade,  dotted  with  cypress-trees,  and  admired 
the  little  domes:  the  Dome  of  the  Spirits,  the 
dome  that  marks  the  spot  where  David  sat  in  judg- 
ment, etc. ;  some  of  them  cover  cisterns  and  res- 
ervoirs in  the  rock  as  old  as  the  foundations  of 
the  Temple. 

In  the  corridor  of  the  Mosque  of  Aksa  are  two 
columns  standing  close  together,  and  like  those  at 
the  Mosque  of  Omar,  in  Cairo,  they  are  a  test 
of  character;  it  is  said  that  whoever  can  squeeze 


MOSLEM   TESTS   OF  CHARACTER  87 

between  them  is  certain  of  Paradise,  and  must,  of 
course,  be  a  good  Moslem.  I  suppose  that  when 
this  test  was  established  the  Moslems  were  all  lean. 
A  black  stone  is  set  in  the  wall  of  the  porch ;  who- 
ever can  walk,  with  closed  eyes,  across  the  porch 
pavement  and  put  his  finger  on  this  stone  may  be 
sure  of  entering  Paradise.  According  to  this  crit- 
erion, the  writer  of  this  is  one  of  the  elect  of  the 
Mohammedan  Paradise  and  his  dragoman  is  shut 
out.  We  were  shown  in  this  mosque  the  print  of 
Christ's  foot  in  a  stone ;  and  it  is  said  that  with 
faith  one  can  feel  in  it,  as  he  can  in  that  of  Mo- 
hammed's in  the  rock,  the  real  flesh.  Opening 
from  this  mosque  is  the  small  Mosque  of  Omar,  on 
the  spot  where  that  zealous  khalif  prayed. 

The  massive  pillared  substructions  under  Aksa 
are  supposed  by  Moslems  to  be  of  Solomon's  time. 
That  wise  monarch  had  dealings  with  the  invisible, 
and  no  doubt  controlled  the  genii,  who  went  and 
came  and  built  and  delved  at  his  bidding.  Abd- 
el-Atti,  with  haste  and  an  air  of  mystery,  drew 
me  along  under  the  arches  to  the  window  in  the 
south  end,  and  showed  me  the  opening  of  a  passage 
under  the  wall,  now  half  choked  up  with  stones. 
This  is  the  beginning  of  a  subterranean  passage 
made  by  the  prophet  Solomon,  that  extends  all 
the  way  to  Hebron,  and  has  an  issue  in  the  mosque 
over  the  tomb  of  Abraham.  This  fact  is  known 
only  to  Moslems,  and  to  very  few  of  them,  and  is 
considered  one  of  the  great  secrets.  Before  I  was 
admitted  to  share  it,  I  am  glad  that  I  passed  be- 
tween the  two  columns,  and  touched,  with  my  eyes 
shut,  the  black  stone. 


88  HOLY    PLACES   OF   THE   HOLY   CITY 

In  the  southeast  corner  of  the  Harem  is  a  little 
building  called  the  Mosque  of  Jesus.  We  passed 
through  it,  and  descended  the  stairway  into  what 
is  called  Solomon's  Stables,  being  shown  on  our 
way  a  stone  trough  which  is  said  to  be  the  cradle 
of  the  infant  Jesus.  These  so-called  stables  are 
subterranean  vaults,  built,  no  doubt,  to  sustain  the 
south  end  of  the  Temple  platform.  We  saw  fif- 
teen rows  of  massive  square  pillars  of  unequal 
sizes  and  at  unequal  distances  apart  (as  if  intended 
for  supports  that  would  not  be  seen),  and  some 
forty  feet  high,  connected  by  round  arches.  We 
were  glad  to  reascend  from  this  wet  and  unpleasant 
cavern  to  the  sunshine  and  the  greensward. 

I  forgot  to  mention  the  Well  of  the  Leaf,  near 
the  entrance,  in  the  Mosque  of  Aksa,  and  the  pretty 
Moslem  legend  that  gave  it  a  name,  which  Abd-el- 
Atti  relates,  though  not  in  the  words  of  the  hand- 
book :  — 

"  This  well  berry  old ;  call  him  Well  of  the  Leaf ; 
water  same  as  Pool  of  Solomon,  healthy  water;  I 
like  him  very  much.  Not  so  deep  as  Bir  el-Arwah ; 
that  small  well,  you  see  it  under  the  rock;  they 
say  it  goes  down  into  Gehenna." 

"Why  is  this  called  the  WeU  of  the  Leaf?  " 

"  Once,  time  of  Suleiman  [it  was  Omar],  a  friend 
of  our  prophet  come  here  to  pray,  and  when  he 
draw  water  to  wash,  he  drop  the  bucket  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  well.  No  way  to  get  it  up,  but  he  must 
go  down.  When  he  was  on  the  bottom,  there  he 
much  surprised  by  a  door  open  in  the  ground,  and 
him  berry  cur'ous  to  see  what  it  is.  Nobody  there, 


THE   WELL   OP  THE   LEAF  89 

so  he  look  in,  and  then  walk  through  berry  fast, 
and  look  over  him  shoulder  to  the  bucket  left  in 
the  well.  The  place  where  he  was  come  was  the 
most  beautiful  garden  ever  was,  and  he  walk  long 
time  and  find  no  end,  always  more  garden,  so  cool, 
and  water  run  in  little  streams,  and  sweet  smell  of 
roses  and  jasmin,  and  little  birds  that  sing,  and 
big  trees  and  dates  and  oranges  and  palms,  more 
kind,  I  t'ink,  than  you  see  in  the  garden  of  his 
vice-royal.  When  the  man  have  been  long  time  in 
the  garden  he  begin  to  have  fright,  and  pick  a 
green  leaf  off  a  tree,  and  run  back  and  come  up 
to  his  friends.  He  show  'em  the  green  leaf,  but 
nobody  have  believe  what  he  say.  Then  they  tell 
him  story  to  the  kadi,  and  the  kadi  send  men  to 
see  the  garden  in  the  bottom  of  the  well.  They 
not  find  any,  not  find  any  door.  Then  the  kadi 
he  make  him  a  letter  to  the  Sultan  —  berry  wise 
man  —  and  he  say  (so  I  read  it  in  our  history), 
'Our  prophet  say,  One  of  my  friends  shall  walk  in 
Paradise  while  he  is  alive.  If  this  is  come  true, 
you  shall  see  the  leaf,  if  it  still  keep  green. '  Then 
the  kadi  make  examine  of  the  leaf,  and  find  him 
green.  So  it  is  believe  the  man  has  been  in 
Paradise." 

"And  do  you  believe  it?" 

"I  cannot  say  edzacly  where  him  been.  Where 
you  t'ink  he  done  got  that  leaf?  " 

Along  the  east  wall  of  the  Harem  there  are  no 
remains  of  the  long  colonnade  called  Solomon's 
Porch,  not  a  column  of  that  resplendent  marble 
pavilion  which  caught  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  over 


90  HOLY   PLACES   OP   THE   HOLY   CITY 

the  mountains  of  Moab,  and  which,  with  the  shin- 
ing temple  towering  behind  it,  must  have  presented 
a  more  magnificent  appearance  than  Babylon,  and 
have  rivaled  the  architectural  glories  of  Ba'albek. 
The  only  thing  in  this  wall  worthy  of  note  now  is 
the  Golden  Gate,  an  entrance  no  longer  used.  We 
descended  into  its  archways,  and  found  some  fine 
columns  with  composite  capitals,  and  other  florid 
stone-work  of  a  rather  tasteless  and  debased  Ro- 
man style. 

We  climbed  the  wall  by  means  of  the  steps,  a 
series  of  which  are  placed  at  intervals,  and  sat  a 
long  time  looking  upon  a  landscape,  every  foot  of 
which  is  historical.  Merely  to  look  upon  it  is  to 
recall  a  great  portion  of  the  Jewish  history  and 
the  momentous  events  in  the  brief  life  of  the  Sa- 
viour, which,  brief  as  it  was,  sufficed  to  newly  create 
the  earth.  There  is  the  Mount  of  Olives,  with  its 
commemorative  chapels,  heaps  of  stone,  and  scat- 
tered trees ;  there  is  the  ancient  foot-path  up  which 
David  fled  as  a  fugitive  by  night  from  the  conspir- 
acy of  Absalom,  what  time  Shimei,  the  relative  of 
Saul,  stoned  him  and  cursed  him ;  and  down  that 
Way  of  Triumph,  the  old  road  sweeping  round  its 
base,  came  the  procession  of  the  Son  of  David, 
in  whose  path  the  multitude  cast  their  garments 
and  branches  of  trees,  and  cried,  "  Hosanna  in  the 
highest."  There  on  those  hills,  Mount  Scopus 
and  Olivet,  were  once  encamped  the  Assyrians, 
and  again  the  Persians;  there  shone  the  eagles  of 
Rome,  borne  by  her  conquering  legions ;  and  there, 
in  turn,  Crusaders  and  Saracens  pitched  their 


TOMBS   AND   TEMPLES  91 

tents.  How  many  times  has  the  air  been  dark- 
ened with  missiles  hurled  thence  upon  this  shining 
prize,  and  how  many  armies  have  closed  in  about 
this  spot  and  swarmed  to  its  destruction!  There 
the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat  curves  down  until  it 
is  merged  in  the  Valley  of  the  Brook  Kidron. 
There,  at  the  junction  of  the  roads  that  run  over 
and  around  Olivet,  is  a  clump  of  trees  surrounded 
by  a  white  wall;  that  is  the  Garden  of  Geth- 
semane.  Near  it  is  the  tomb  of  Mary.  Farther 
down  you  see  the  tomb  of  Absalom,  the  tomb  of 
St.  James,  the  monolith  pyramid-tipped  tomb  of 
Zacharias  (none  of  them  apparently  as  old  as  they 
claim  to  be),  and  the  remains  of  a  little  temple,  the 
model  of  which  came  from  the  banks  of  the  Nile, 
that  Solomon  built  for  his  Egyptian  wife,  the 
daughter  of  Pharaoh,  wherein  they  worshiped  the 
gods  of  her  country.  It  is  tradition  also  that  near 
here  were  some  of  the  temples  he  built  for  others 
of  his  strange  wives:  a  temple  to  Chemosh,  the 
Moabite  god,  and  the  image  of  Moloch,  the  de- 
vourer  of  children.  Solomon  was  wiser  than  all 
men,  wiser  than  Heman,  and  Chalcol,  and  Darda, 
the  sons  of  Mahol;  his  friend  Hiram  of  Tyre  used 
to  send  riddles  to  him  which  no  one  in  the  world 
but  Solomon  could  guess;  but  his  wisdom  failed 
him  with  the  other  sex,  and  there  probably  never 
was  another  Oriental  court  so  completely  ruled  and 
ruined  by  women  as  his. 

This  valley  below  us  is  perhaps  the  most  mel- 
ancholy on  earth :  nowhere  else  is  death  so  visibly 
master  of  the  scene ;  nature  is  worn  out,  man  tired 


92  HOLY  PLACES   OF  THE   HOLY  CITY 

out;  a  gray  despair  has  settled  down  upon  the 
landscape.  Down  there  is  the  village  of  Siloam, 
a  village  of  huts  and  holes  in  the  rocks,  opposite 
the  cave  of  that  name.  If  it  were  the  abode  of 
wolves  it  would  have  a  better  character  than  it  has 
now.  There  is  the  grim  cast  of  sin  and  exhaustion 
upon  the  scene.  I  do  not  know  exactly  how  much 
of  this  is  owing  to  the  Jewish  burying-ground, 
which  occupies  so  much  of  the  opposite  hill.  The 
slope  is  thickly  shingled  with  gray  stones,  that  lie 
in  a  sort  of  regularity  which  suggests  their  pur- 
pose. You  fall  to  computing  how  many  Jews  there 
may  be  in  that  hill,  layer  upon  layer ;  for  the  most 
part  they  are  dissolved  away  into  the  earth,  but 
you  think  that  if  they  were  to  put  on  their  mortal 
bodies  and  come  forth,  the  valley  itself  would  be 
filled  with  them  almost  to  the  height  of  the  wall. 
Out  of  these  gates,  giving  upon  this  valley  of 
death,  six  hundred  thousand  bodies  of  those  who 
had  starved  were  thrown  during  the  siege,  and  long 
before  Titus  stormed  the  city.  I  do  not  wonder 
that  the  Moslems  think  of  this  frightful  vale  as 
Gehenna  itself. 

From  an  orifice  in  the  battlemented  wall  where 
we  sat  projects  a  round  column,  mounted  there 
like  a  cannon  and  perhaps  intended  to  deceive  an 
enemy  into  the  belief  that  the  wall  is  fortified.  It 
is  astride  this  column,  overhanging  this  dreadful 
valley,  that  Mohammed  will  sit  at  the  last,  the 
judgment  day.  A  line  finer  than  a  hair  and 
sharper  than  a  razor  will  reach  from  it  to  the  tower 
on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  stretching  over  the  valley 


ES-SERAT  93 

of  the  dead.  This  is  the  line  Es-Serat.  Moham- 
med will  superintend  the  passage  over  it.  For  in 
that  day  all  who  ever  lived,  risen  to  judgment, 
must  walk  this  razor-line ;  the  good  will  cross  in 
safety;  the  bad  will  fall  into  hell,  that  is,  into 
Gehenna,  this  blasted  gulf  and  side-hill  below, 
thickly  sown  with  departed  Jews.  It  is  in  view 
of  this  perilous  passage  that  the  Moslem  every  day, 
during  the  ablution  of  his  feet,  prays :  "  Oh,  make 
my  feet  not  to  slip  on  Es-Serat,  on  that  day  when 
feet  shall  slip." 


IV 


NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM 

HERE VER  we  come  upon  traces  of  the 
Knights  of  St.  John,  there  a  door  opens 
for  us  into  romance ;  the  very  name  sug- 
gests valor  and  courtesy  and  charity. 
Every  town  in  the  East  that  is  so  fortunate  as  to 
have  any  memorials  of  them,  whatever  its  other 
historic  associations,  obtains  an  additional  and 
special  fame  from  its  connection  with  this  heroic 
order.  The  city  of  Acre  recalls  the  memory  of 
their  useless  prowess  in  the  last  struggle  of  the 
Christians  to  retain  a  foothold  in  Palestine;  the 
name  of  the  Knights  of  Rhodes  brings  before  every 
traveler,  who  has  seen  it,  the  picturesque  city  in 
which  the  armorial  insignia  of  this  order  have  for 
him  a  more  living  interest  than  any  antiquities  of 
the  Grecian  Rose ;  the  island  fortress  at  the  gate 
of  the  Levant  owes  all  the  interest  we  feel  in  it 
to  the  Knights  of  Malta;  and  even  the  city  of 
David  and  of  the  Messiah  has  an  added  lustre 
as  the  birthplace  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John  of 
Jerusalem. 

From  the  eleventh  century  to  the  fifteenth,  they 
are  the  chief  figures  who  in  that  whirlwind  of  war 


THE   KNIGHTS   OF   ST.   JOHN  95 

contested  the  possession  of  the  Levant  with  the 
Saracens  and  the  Turks.  In  the  forefront  of  every 
battle  was  seen  their  burnished  mail,  in  the  gloomy 
rear  of  every  retreat  were  heard  their  voices  of  con- 
stancy and  of  courage ;  wherever  there  were  crowns 
to  be  cracked,  or  wounds  to  be  bound  up,  or 
broken  hearts  to  be  ministered  to,  there  were  the 
Knights  of  St.  John,  soldiers,  priests,  servants, 
laying  aside  the  gown  for  the  coat  of  mail  if  need 
be,  or  exchanging  the  cuirass  for  the  white  cross 
on  the  breast.  Originally  a  charitable  order, 
dwelling  in  the  Hospital  of  St.  John  to  minister 
to  the  pilgrims  to  Jerusalem,  and  composed  of 
young  soldiers  of  Godfrey,  who  took  the  vows  of 
poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience,  they  resumed 
their  arms  upon  the  pressure  of  infidel  hostility, 
and  subsequently  divided  the  order  into,  three 
classes:  soldiers,  priests,  and  servants.  They 
speedily  acquired  great  power  and  wealth;  their 
palaces,  their  fortifications,  their  churches,  are  even 
in  their  ruins  the  admiration  and  wonder  of  our 
age.  The  purity  of  the  order  was  in  time  some- 
what sullied  by  luxury,  but  their  valor  never  suf- 
fered the  slightest  eclipse ;  whether  the  field  they 
contested  was  lost  or  won,  their  bravery  always 
got  new  honor  from  it. 

Nearly  opposite  the  court  of  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  is  the  green  field  of  Muristan, 
the  site  of  the  palace,  church,  and  hospital  of  the 
Knights  of  St.  John.  The  field  was,  on  an  aver- 
age, twenty -five  feet  above  the  surrounding  streets, 
and  a  portion  of  it  was  known  to  rest  upon  vaults. 


96      NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM 

This  plot  of  ground  was  given  to  the  Prussian  gov- 
ernment, and  its  agents  have  been  making  excava- 
tions there ;  these  were  going  on  at  the  time  of  our 
visit.  The  disclosures  are  of  great  architectural 
and  historical  interest.  The  entrance  through  a 
peculiar  Gothic  gateway  leads  into  a  court.  Here 
the  first  excavations  were  made  several  years  ago, 
and  disclosed  some  splendid  remains :  the  apse  of 
the  costly  church,  cloisters,  fine  windows  and  arches 
of  the  best  Gothic  style.  Beyond,  the  diggings 
have  brought  to  light  some  of  the  features  of  the 
palace  and  hospital :  an  excavation  of  twenty -five 
feet  reaches  down  to  the  arches  of  the  substructure, 
which  rest  upon  pillars  from  forty  to  fifty  feet  high. 
This  gives  us  some  notion  of  the  magnificent  group 
of  buildings  that  once  occupied  this  square,  and 
also  of  the  industry  of  nature  as  an  entomber,  since 
some  four  centuries  have  sufficed  her  to  bury  these 
ruins  so  far  beneath  the  soil,  that  peasants  ploughed 
over  the  palaces  of  the  knights  without  a  suspicion 
of  what  lay  beneath. 

In  one  corner  of  this  field  stands  a  slender  min- 
aret, marking  the  spot  where  the  great  Omar  once 
said  his  prayers ;  four  centuries  after  this,  Saladin 
is  said  to  have  made  his  military  headquarters 
in  the  then  deserted  palace  of  the  Knights  of  St. 
John.  There  is  no  spot  in  Jerusalem  where  one 
touches  more  springs  of  romance  than  in  this  field 
of  Muristan. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  and  doleful  walk 
one  can  take  near  Jerusalem  is  that  into  the  Valley 
of  Kidron  and  through  Aceldama,  round  to  the 


THE   FOUNTAIN   OF   THE   VIRGIN  97 

Jaffa  Gate,  traversing  "the  whole  valley  of  the 
dead  bodies,  and  of  the  ashes,"  in  the  cheerful 
words  of  Jeremiah. 

We  picked  our  way  through  the  filthy  streets 
and  on  the  slippery  cobble-stones,  —  over  which  it 
seems  dangerous  to  ride  and  is  nearly  impossible 
to  walk,  — out  through  St.  Stephen's  Gate.  Near 
the  gate,  inside,  we  turned  into  an  alley  and 
climbed  a  heap  of  rubbish  to  see  a  pool,  which  the 
guide  insisted  upon  calling  Bethesda,  although  it 
is  Birket  Israil.  Having  seen  many  of  these  pools, 
I  did  not  expect  much,  but  I  was  still  disappointed. 
We  saw  merely  a  hole  in  the  ground,  which  is  void 
of  all  appearance  of  ever  having  been  even  damp. 
The  fact  is,  we  have  come  to  Jerusalem  too  late; 
we  ought  to  have  been  here  about  two  thousand 
years  ago. 

The  slope  of  the  hill  outside  the  gate  is  covered 
with  the  turbaned  tombs  of  Moslems ;  we  passed 
under  the  walls  and  through  this  cemetery  into 
the  deep  valley  below,  crossing  the  bed  of  the 
brook  near  the  tombs  of  Absalom,  Jehoshaphat, 
St.  James,  and  Zacharias.  These  all  seem  to  be  of 
Roman  construction ;  but  that  called  Absalom's  is 
so  firmly  believed  to  be  his  that  for  centuries  every 
Jew  who  has  passed  it  has  cast  a  stone  at  it,  and 
these  pebbles  of  hate  partially  cover  it.  We  also 
added  to  the  heap,  but  I  do  not  'know  why,  for  it 
is  nearly  impossible  to  hate  any  one  who  has  been 
dead  so  long. 

The  most  interesting  phenomenon  in  the  valley 
is  the  Fountain  of  the  Virgin,  or  the  Fountain  of 


98  NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM 

Accused  Women,  as  it  used  to  be  called.  The 
Moslem  tradition  is  that  it  was  a  test  of  the  un- 
faithfulness of  women;  those  who  drank  of  it  and 
were  guilty,  died;  those  who  were  innocent  re- 
ceived no  harm.  The  Virgin  Mary  herself,  being 
accused,  accepted  this  test,  drank  of  the  water,  and 
proved  her  chastity.  Since  then  the  fountain  has 
borne  her  name.  The  fountain,  or  well,  is  in  the 
side-hill,  under  the  rocks  of  Ophel,  and  the  water 
springs  up  in  an  artificial  cave.  We  descended 
some  sixteen  steps  to  a  long  chamber,  arched  with 
ancient  masonry ;  we  passed  through  that  and  de- 
scended fourteen  steps  more  into  a  grotto,  where 
we  saw  the  water  flowing  in  and  escaping  by  a 
subterranean  passage.  About  this  fountain  were 
lounging  groups  of  Moslem  idlers,  mostly  women 
and  children.  Not  far  off  a  Moslem  was  saying 
his  prayers,  prostrating  himself  before  a  prayer- 
niche.  We  had  difficulty  in  making  our  way  down 
the  steps,  so  encumbered  were  they  with  women. 
Several  of  them  sat  upon  the  lowest  steps  in  the 
damp  cavern,  gossiping,  filling  their  water-skins, 
or  paddling  about  with  naked  feet. 

The  well,  like  many  others  in  Syria,  is  intermit- 
tent and  irregular  in  its  rising  and  falling ;  some- 
times it  is  dry,  and  then  suddenly  it  bubbles  up 
and  is  full  again.  Some  scholars  think  this  is  the 
Pool  Bethesda  of  the  New  Testament,  others  think 
that  Bethesda  was  Siloam,  which  is  below  this  well 
and  fed  by  it,  and  would  exhibit  the  same  irregu- 
lar rising  and  falling.  This  intermittent  character 
St.  John  attributed  to  an  angel  who  came  down 


THE   POOL   OF    SILOAM  99 

and  troubled  the  water;  the  Moslems,  with  the 
same  superstition,  say  that  it  is  caused  by  a  dragon 
who  sleeps  therein  and  checks  the  stream  when  he 
wakes. 

On  our  way  to  the  Pool  of  Siloam,  we  passed 
the  village  of  Siloam,  which  is  inhabited  by  about 
a  thousand  Moslems,  —  a  nest  of  stone  huts  and 
caves  clinging  to  the  side-hill,  and  exactly  the  gray 
color  of  its  stones.  The  occupation  of  the  inhab- 
itants appears  to  be  begging,  and  hunting  for  old 
copper  coins,  mites,  and  other  pieces  of  Jewish 
money.  These  relics  they  pressed  upon  us  with 
the  utmost  urgency.  It  was  easier  to  satisfy  the 
beggars  than  the  traders,  who  sallied  out  upon  us 
like  hungry  wolves  from  their  caves.  There  is  a 
great  choice  of  disagreeable  places  in  the  East,  but 
1  cannot  now  think  of  any  that  I  should  not  pre- 
fer as  a  residence  to  Siloam. 

The  Pool  of  Siloam,  magnified  in  my  infant 
mind  as  "Siloam's  shady  rill,"  is  an  unattractive 
sink-hole  of  dirty  water,  surrounded  by  modern 
masonry.  The  valley  here  is  very  stony.  Just  be- 
low we  came  to  Solomon's  Garden,  an  arid  spot, 
with  patches  of  stone-walls,  struggling  to  be  a  veg- 
etable-garden, and  somewhat  green  with  lettuce 
and  Jerusalem  artichokes.  I  have  no  doubt  it  was 
quite  another  thing  when  Solomon  and  some  of 
his  wives  used  to  walk  here  in  the  cool  of  the  day, 
and  even  when  Shallum,  the  son  of  Col-hozeh,  set 
up  "the  wall  of  the  Pool  of  Siloah  by  the  king's 
garden." 

We  continued  on,  down  to  Joab's  Well,  passing 


100      NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM 

on  the  way  Isaiah's  Tree,  a  decrepit  sycamore 
propped  up  by  a  stone  pillar,  where  that  prophet 
was  sawn  asunder.  There  is  no  end  to  the  cheer- 
ful associations  of  the  valley.  The  Well  of  Joab, 
a  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  deep,  and  walled 
and  arched  with  fine  masonry,  has  a  great  appear- 
ance of  antiquity.  We  plucked  maiden-hair  from 
its  crevices,  and  read  the  Old  Testament  refer- 
ences. Near  it  is  a  square  pool  fed  by  its  water. 
Some  little  distance  below  this  the  waters  of  all 
these  wells,  pools,  drains,  sinks,  or  whatever  they 
are,  reappear,  bursting  up  through  a  basin  of  sand 
and  pebbles,  as  clear  as  crystal,  and  run  brawling 
off  down  the  valley  under  a  grove  of  large  olive- 
trees,  —  a  scene  rural  and  inviting. 

I  suppose  it  would  be  possible  to  trace  the  whole 
system  of  underground  water  ways  and  cisterns, 
from  Solomon's  Pool,  which  sends  its  water  into 
town  by  an  aqueduct  near  the  Jaffa  Gate,  to  Hez- 
ekiah's  Pool,  to  the  cisterns  under  the  Harem,  and 
so  out  to  the  Virgin's  Well,  the  Pool  of  Siloam, 
and  the  final  gush  of  sweet  water  below.  This 
valley  drains,  probably  artificially  as  well  as  nat- 
urally, the  whole  city,  for  no  sewers  exist  in  the 
latter. 

We  turned  back  from  this  sparkling  brook, 
which  speedily  sinks  into  the  ground  again,  ab- 
sorbed by  the  thirsty  part  of  the  valley  called 
Tophet,  and  went  up  the  Valley  of  Hinnom,  pass- 
ing under  the  dark  and  frowning  ledges  of  Acel- 
dama, honeycombed  with  tombs.  In  this  "field  of 
blood"  a  grim  stone  structure  forms  the  front  of  a 


THE   VALLEY   OF   HINNOM  101 

natural  cave,  which  is  the  charnel-house  where  the 
dead  were  cast  pell-mell,  in  the  belief  that  the  salts 
in  the  earth  would  speedily  consume  them.  The 
path  we  travel  is  rugged,  steep,  and  incredibly 
stony.  The  whole  of  this  region  is  inexpressibly 
desolate,  worn-out,  pale,  uncanny.  The  height 
above  this  rocky  terrace,  stuffed  with  the  dead,  is 
the  Hill  of  Evil  Counsel,  where  the  Jews  took 
counsel  against  Jesus;  and  to  add  the  last  touch 
of  an  harmonious  picture,  just  above  this  Potter's 
Field  stands  the  accursed  tree  upon  which  Judas 
hanged  himself,  raising  its  gaunt  branches  against 
the  twilight  sky,  a  very  gallows-tree  to  the  im- 
agination. It  has  borne  no  fruit  since  Iscariot. 
Towards  dusk,  sometimes,  as  you  stand  on  the  wall 
by  Zion  Gate,  you  almost  fancy  you  can  see  him 
dangling  there.  It  is  of  no  use  to  tell  me  that  the 
seed  that  raised  this  tree  could  not  have  sprouted 
till  a  thousand  years  after  Judas  was  crumbled 
into  dust;  one  must  have  faith  in  something. 

This  savage  gorge,  for  the  Valley  of  Hinnom  is 
little  more  than  that  in  its  narrowest  part,  has  few 
associations  that  are  not  horrible.  Here  Solomon 
set  up  the  images  ("the  groves,"  or  the  graven 
images),  and  the  temples  for  the  lascivious  rites 
of  Ashtaroth  or  the  human  sacrifices  to  Moloch. 
Here  the  Jews,  the  kings  and  successors  of  Solo- 
mon, with  a  few  exceptions,  and  save  an  occasional 
spasmodic  sacrifice  to  Jehovah  when  calamity  made 
them  fear  him,  practiced  all  the  abominations  of 
idolatry  in  use  in  that  age.  The  Jews  had  always 
been  more  or  less  addicted  to  the  worship  of  the 


102      NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM 

god  of  Ammon,  but  Solomon  first  formally  estab- 
lished it  in  Hinnom.  Jeremiah  writes  of  it  histor- 
ically, "  They  have  built  the  high  places  of  Tophet, 
which  is  in  the  valley  of  the  son  of  Hinnom,  to 
burn  their  sons  and  their  daughters  in  the  fire." 
This  Moloch  was  as  ingenious  a  piece  of  cruelty  as 
ever  tried  the  faith  of  heretics  in  later  times,  and, 
since  it  was  purely  a  means  of  human  sacrifice,  and 
not  a  means  of  grace  (as  Inquisitorial  tortures  were 
supposed  to  be),  its  use  is  conclusive  proof  of  the 
savage  barbarity  of  the  people  who  delighted  in  it. 
Moloch  was  the  monstrous  brass  image  of  a  man 
with  the  head  of  an  ox.  It  was  hollow,  and  the 
interior  contained  a  furnace  by  which  the  statue 
was  made  red-hot.  Children  —  the  offerings  to  the 
god  —  were  then  placed  in  its  glowing  arms,  and 
drums  were  beaten  to  drown  their  cries.  It  is 
painful  to  recall  these  things,  but  the  traveler 
should  always  endeavor  to  obtain  the  historical 
flavor  of  the  place  he  visits. 

Continuing  our  walks  among  the  antiquities  of 
Jerusalem,  we  went  out  of  the  Damascus  Gate,  a 
noble  battlemented  structure,  through  which  runs 
the  great  northern  highway  to  Samaria  and  Damas- 
cus. The  road,  however,  is  a  mere  path  over 
ledges  and  through  loose  stones,  fit  only  for  don- 
keys. If  Rehoboam  went  this  way  in  his  chariot 
to  visit  Jeroboam  in  Samaria,  there  must  have  ex- 
isted then  a  better  road,  or  else  the  king  endured 
hard  pounding  for  the  sake  of  the  dignity  of  his 
conveyance.  As  soon  as  we  left  the  gate  we  en- 
countered hills  of  stones  and  paths  of  the  roughest 


Damascus  Gate 


•  ™^  _.  *,  '^•r     i 

-    -  r  * 

^^       — 

™ -*. 
,  ^-  - 

•^ 
«-.»  '-. 


THE  TOMB   OF   HELENA  103 

description.  There  are  several  rock  tombs  on  this 
side  of  the  city,  but  we  entered  only  one,  that 
called  by  some  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings,  and  by 
others,  with  more  reason,  the  Tomb  of  Helena,  a 
heathen  convert  to  Judaism,  who  built  this  sepul- 
chre for  herself  early  in  the  first  century.  The 
tomb,  excavated  entirely  in  the  solid  rock,  is  a 
spacious  affair,  having  a  large  court  and  orna- 
mented vestibule  and  many  chambers,  extending 
far  into  the  rock,  and  a  singular  network  of  narrow 
passages  and  recesses  for  the  deposit  of  the  dead. 
It  had  one  device  that  is  worthy  of  the  ancient 
Egyptians.  The  entrance  was  closed  by  a  heavy 
square  stone,  so  hung  that  it  would  yield  to  pres- 
sure from  without,  but  would  swing  to  its  place  by 
its  own  weight,  and  fitted  so  closely  that  it  could 
not  be  moved  from  the  inside.  If  any  thief  en- 
tered the  tomb  and  left  this  slab  unsecured,  he 
would  be  instantly  caught  in  the  trap  and  become 
a  permanent  occupant.  Large  as  the  tomb  is,  its 
execution  is  mean  compared  with  the  rock  tombs 
of  Egypt ;  but  the  exterior  stone  of  the  court,  from 
its  exposure  in  this  damp  and  variable  climate, 
appears  older  than  Egyptian  work  which  has  been 
uncovered  three  times  as  long. 

At  the  tomb  we  encountered  a  dozen  students 
from  the  Latin  convent,  fine-looking  fellows  in 
long  blue-black  gowns,  red  caps,  and  red  sashes. 
They  sat  upon  the  grass,  on  the  brink  of  the  ex- 
cavation, stringing  rosaries  and  singing  student 
songs,  with  evident  enjoyment  of  the  hour's  free- 
dom from  the  school ;  they  not  only  made  a  pic- 


104  NEIGHBORHOODS   OF  JERUSALEM 

turesque  appearance,  but  they  impressed  us  also  as 
a  Jerusalem  group  which  was  neither  sinful  nor 
dirty.  Beyond  this  tomb  we  noticed  a  handsome 
modern  dwelling-house;  you  see  others  on  various 
eminences  outside  the  city,  and  we  noted  them  as 
the  most  encouraging  sign  of  prosperity  about 
Jerusalem. 

We  returned  over  the  hill  and  by  the  city  wall, 
passing  the  Cave  of  Jeremiah  and  the  door  in  the 
wall  that  opens  into  the  stone  quarries  of  Solomon. 
These  quarries  underlie  a  considerable  portion  of 
the  city,  and  furnished  the  stone  for  its  ancient 
buildings.  I  will  not  impose  upon  you  a  descrip- 
tion of  them;  for  it  would  be  unfair  to  send  you 
into  disagreeable  places  that  I  did  not  explore 
myself. 

The  so-called  Grotto  of  Jeremiah  is  a  natural 
cavern  in  the  rocky  hill,  vast  in  extent,  I  think 
thirty  feet  high  and  a  hundred  feet  long  by  seventy 
broad,  —  as  big  as  a  church.  The  tradition  is 
that  Jeremiah  lived  and  lamented  here.  In  front 
of  the  cave  are  cut  stones  and  pieces  of  polished 
columns  built  into  walls  and  seats ;  these  fragments 
seem  to  indicate  the  former  existence  here  of  a 
Roman  temple.  The  cave  is  occupied  by  an  old 
dervish,  who  has  a  house  in  a  rock  near  by,  and 
uses  the  cavern  as  a  cool  retreat  and  a  stable  for 
his  donkey.  His  rocky  home  is  shared  by  his ' 
wife  and  family.  He  said  that  it  was  better  to 
live  alone,  apart  from  the  world  and  its  snares. 
He,  however,  finds  the  reputation  of  Jeremiah 
profitable,  selling  admission  to  the  cave  at  a  franc 


PILGRIMS   OF  THE   CROSS  105 

a  head,  and,  judging  by  the  women  and  children 
about  him,  he  seemed  to  have  family  enough  not 
to  be  lonely. 

The  sojourner  in  Jerusalem  who  does  not  care 
for  antiquities  can  always  entertain  himself  by  a 
study  of  the  pilgrims  who  throng  the  city  at  this 
season.  We  hear  more  of  the  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca  than  of  that  to  Jerusalem ;  but  I  think  the 
latter  is  the  more  remarkable  phenomenon  of  our 
modern  life ;  I  believe  it  equals  the  former,  which 
is  usually  overrated,  in  numbers,  and  it  certainly 
equals  it  in  zeal  and  surpasses  it  in  the  variety  of 
nationalities  represented.  The  pilgrims  of  the  cross 
increase  yearly;  to  supply  their  wants,  to  minister 
to  their  credulity,  to  traffic  on  their  faith,  is  the 
great  business  of  the  Holy  City.  Few,  I  imagine, 
who  are  not  in  Palestine  in  the  spring,  have  any 
idea  of  the  extent  of  this  vast  yearly  movement  of 
Christian  people  upon  the  Holy  Land,  or  of  the 
simple  zeal  which  characterizes  it.  If  it  were  in 
any  way  obstructed  or  hindered,  we  should  have  a 
repetition  of  the  Crusades,  on  a  vaster  scale  and 
gathered  from  a  broader  area  than  the  wildest  pil- 
grimage of  the  holy  war.  The  driblets  of  travel 
from  America  and  from  western  Europe  are  as 
nothing  in  the  crowds  thronging  to  Jerusalem  from 
Ethiopia  to  Siberia,  from  the  Baltic  to  the  Ural 
Mountains.  Already  for  a  year  before  the  Easter 
season  have  they  been  on  foot,  slowly  pushing  their 
way  across  great  steppes,  through  snows  and  over 
rivers,  crossing  deserts  and  traversing  unfriendly 
countries;  the  old,  the  infirm,  women  as  well  as 


106  NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM 

men,  their  faces  set  towards  Jerusalem.  No  com- 
mon curiosity  moves  this  mass,  from  Ethiopia, 
from  Egypt,  from  Russia,  from  European  Turkey, 
from  Asia  Minor,  from  the  banks  of  the  Tagus 
and  the  Araxes;  it  is  a  true  pilgrimage  of  faith, 
the  one  event  in  a  life  of  dull  monotony  and  sordid 
cares,  the  one  ecstasy  of  poetry  in  an  existence  of 
poverty  and  ignorance. 

We  spent  a  morning  in  the  Russian  Hospice, 
which  occupies  the  hill  to  the  northwest  of  the 
city.  It  is  a  fine  pile  of  buildings,  the  most  con- 
spicuous of  which,  on  account  of  its  dome,  is  the 
church,  a  large  edifice  with  a  showy  exterior,  but 
of  no  great  merit  or  interest.  We  were  shown 
some  holy  pictures  which  are  set  in  frames  in- 
crusted  with  diamonds,  emeralds,  rubies,  and  other 
precious  gems,  the  offerings  of  rich  devotees,  and 
displaying  their  wealth  rather  than  their  taste. 

The  establishment  has  one  building  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  rich  pilgrims,  and  a  larger  one 
set  apart  for  peasants.  The  hospice  lodges,  free 
of  charge,  all  the  Russian  pilgrims.  The  exterior 
court  was  full  of  them.  They  were  sunning  them- 
selves, but  not  inclined  to  lay  aside  their  hot  furs 
and  heavy  woollens.  We  passed  into  the  interior, 
entering  room  after  room  occupied  by  the  pilgrims, 
who  regarded  our  intrusion  with  good-natured 
indifference,  or  frankly  returned  our  curiosity. 
Some  of  the  rooms  were  large,  furnished  with 
broad  divans  about  the  sides,  which  served  for 
beds  and  lounging-places,  and  were  occupied  by 
both  sexes.  The  women,  rosy-cheeked,  light- 


RUSSIAN  PILGRIMS  107 

haired,  broad,  honest  -  looking  creatures,  were 
mending  their  clothes ;  the  men  were  snoozing  on 
the  divans,  flat  on  their  backs,  presenting  to  the 
spectator  the  bottoms  of  their  monstrous  shoes, 
which  had  soles  eight  inches  broad;  a  side  of 
leather  would  be  needed  for  a  pair.  In  these  not 
very  savory  rooms  they  cook,  eat,  and  sleep.  Here 
stood  their  stoves;  here  hung  their  pilgrim  knap- 
sacks; here  were  their  kits  of  shoemaker's  tools, 
for  mending  their  foot-gear,  which  they  had  tugged 
thousands  of  miles;  here  were  household  effects 
that  made  their  march  appear  more  like  an  emi- 
gration than  a  pilgrimage;  here  were  the  staring 
pictures  of  St.  George  and  the  Dragon,  and  of 
other  saints,  the  beads  and  the  other  relics,  which 
they  had  bought  in  Jerusalem. 

Although  all  these  pilgrims  owed  allegiance  to 
the  Czar,  they  represented  a  considerable  variety 
of  races.  They  came  from  Archangel,  from  To- 
bolsk, from  the  banks  of  the  Ural,  from  Kurland ; 
they  had  found  their  way  along  the  Danube,  the 
Dnieper,  the  Don.  I  spoke  with  a  group  of  men 
and  women  who  had  walked  over  two  thousand 
miles  before  they  reached  Odessa  and  took  ship  for 
Jaffa.  There  were  among  them  Cossacks,  wild 
and  untidy,  light  -  haired  barbarians  from  the 
Caucasus,  dark-skinned  men  and  women  from  Mos- 
cow, representatives  from  the  remotest  provinces 
of  great  Russia;  for  the  most  part  simple,  rude, 
clumsy,  honest  boors.  In  an  interior  court  we 
found  men  and  women  seated  on  the  sunny  flag- 
ging, busily  occupied  in  arranging  and  packing  the 


108      NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM 

souvenirs  of  their  visit.  There  was  rosemary 
spread  out  to  dry ;  there  were  little  round  cakes  of 
blessed  bread  stamped  with  the  image  of  the  Sa- 
viour; there  were  branches  of  palm,  crowns  of 
thorns,  and  stalks  of  cane  cut  at  the  Jordan ;  there 
were  tin  cases  of  Jordan  water;  there  were  long 
strips  of  cotton  cloth  stamped  in  black  with  various 
insignia  of  death,  to  serve  at  home  for  coffin  cov- 
ers; there  were  skull-caps  in  red,  yellow,  and 
white,  also  stamped  with  holy  images,  to  be  put  on 
the  heads  of  the  dead.  I  could  not  but  in  mind 
follow  these  people  to  their  distant  homes,  and 
think  of  the  pride  with  which  they  would  show 
these  trophies  of  their  pilgrimage;  how  the  rude 
neighbors  would  handle  with  awe  a  stick  cut  on 
the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  or  eat  with  faith  a  bit  of 
the  holy  bread.  How  sacred,  in  those  homes  of 
frost  and  snow,  will  not  these  mementos  of  a  land 
of  sun,  of  a  land  so  sacred,  become !  I  can  see  the 
wooden  chest  in  the  cabin  where  the  rosemary  will 
be  treasured,  keeping  sweet,  against  the  day  of 
need,  the  caps  and  the  shrouds. 

These  people  will  need  to  make  a  good  many 
more  pilgrimages,  and  perhaps  to  quit  their  mo- 
rose land  altogether,  before  they  can  fairly  rank 
among  the  civilized  of  the  earth.  They  were 
thick-set,  padded-legged,  short-bodied,  unintelli- 
gent. The  faces  of  many  of  them  were  worn,  as 
if  storm-beaten,  and  some  kept  their  eyes  half 
closed,  as  if  they  were  long  used  to  face  the  sleet 
and  blasts  of  winter;  and  I  noticed  that  it  gave 
their  faces  a  very  different  expression  from  that 


THE   JERUSALEM    DONKEY  109 

produced  by  the  habit  the  Egyptians  have  of  draw- 
ing the  eyelids  close  together  on  account  of  the 
glare  of  the  sun. 

We  took  donkeys  one  lovely  morning,  and  rode 
from  the  Jaffa  Gate  around  the  walls  on  our  way 
to  the  Mount  of  Olives.  The  Jerusalem  donkey 
is  a  good  enough  donkey,  but  he  won't  go.  He  is 
ridden  with  a  halter,  and  never  so  elegantly  capar- 
isoned as  his  more  genteel  brother  in  Cairo.  In 
order  to  get  him  along  at  all,  it  needs  one  man  to 
pull  the  halter  and  another  to  follow  behind  with 
a  stick;  the  donkey  then  moves  by  inches  —  if  he 
is  in  the  humor.  The  animal  that  I  rode  stopped 
at  once,  when  he  perceived  that  his  driver  was  ab- 
sent. No  persuasions  of  mine,  such  as  kicks  and 
whacks  of  a  heavy  stick,  could  move  him  on;  he 
would  turn  out  of  the  road,  put  his  head  against 
the  wall,  and  pretend  to  go  f&  sleep.  You  would 
not  suppose  it  possible  for  a  beast  to  exhibit  so 
much  contempt  for  a  man. 

On  the  high  ground  outside  the  wall  were 
pitched  the  tents  of  travelers,  making  a  very 
pretty  effect  amid  the  olive-trees  and  the  gray 
rocks.  Now  and  then  an  Arab  horseman  came 
charging  down  the  road,  or  a  Turkish  official  can- 
tered by;  women,  veiled,  clad  in  white  balloon 
robes  that  covered  them  from  head  to  foot,  flitted 
along  in  the  sunshine,  mere  white  appearances  of 
women,  to  whom  it  was  impossible  to  attribute  any 
such  errand  as  going  to  market;  they  seemed  al- 
ways to  be  going  to  or  returning  from  the  ceme- 
tery. 


110  NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM 

Our  way  lay  down  the  rough  path  and  the  wind- 
ing road  to  the  bottom  of  the  Valley  of  Jehosha- 
phat.  Leaving  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  on  our 
right,  we  climbed  up  the  rugged,  stony,  steep  path 
to  the  summit  of  the  hill.  There  are  a  few  olive- 
trees  on  the  way,  enough  to  hinder  the  view  where 
the  stone -walls  would  permit  us  to  see  anything; 
importunate  begging  Moslems  beset  us;  all  along 
the  route  we  encountered  shabbiness  and  squalor. 
The  rural  sweetness  and  peace  that  we  associate 
with  this  dear  mount  appear  to  have  been  worn 
away  centuries  ago.  We  did  not  expect  too  much, 
but  we  were  not  prepared  for  such  a  shabby  show- 
place.  If  we  could  sweep  away  all  the  filthy  hab- 
itations and  hideous  buildings  on  the  hill,  and  leave 
it  to  nature,  or  indeed  convert  the  surface  into  a 
well  ordered  garden,  the  spot  would  be  one  of  the 
most  attractive  in  tlft  world. 

We  hoped  that  when  we  reached  the  summit  we 
should  come  into  an  open,  green  and  shady  place, 
free  from  the  disagreeable  presence  of  human 
greed  and  all  the  artificiality  that  interposed  itself 
between  us  and  the  sentiment  of  the  place.  But 
the  traveler  need  not  expect  that  in  Palestine. 
Everything  is  staked  out  and  made  a  show  of. 
Arrived  at  the  summit,  we  could  see  little  or  no- 
thing ;  it  is  crowned  with  the  dilapidated  Chapel  of 
the  Ascension.  We  entered  a  dirty  court,  where 
the  custodian  and  his  family  and  his  animals  live, 
and  from  thence  were  admitted  to  the  church.  In 
the  pavement  is  shown  the  footprint  of  our  ascend- 
ing Lord,  although  the  Ascension  was  made  at 


THE   SCENE   OF  THE   ASCENSION  111 

Bethany.  We  paid  the  custodian  for  permission 
to  see  this  manufactured  scene  of  the  Ascension. 
The  best  point  of  view  to  be  had  here  is  the  old 
tower  of  the  deserted  convent,  or  the  narrow  pas- 
sage to  it  on  the  wall,  or  the  top  of  the  minaret 
near  the  church.  There  is  no  place  on  wall  or 
tower  where  one  can  sit;  there  is  no  place  any- 
where here  to  sit  down,  and  in  peace  and  quiet 
enjoy  the  magnificent  prospect,  and  meditate  on 
the  most  momentous  event  in  human  history.  We 
snatched  the  view  in  the  midst  of  annoyances. 
The  most  minute  features  of  it  are  known  to  every 
one  who  reads.  The  portion  of  it  I  did  not  seem 
to  have  been  long  familiar  with  is  that  to  the  east, 
comprising  the  Jordan  valley,  the  mountains  of 
Moab,  and  the  Dead  Sea. 

Although  this  mount  is  consecrated  by  the  fre- 
quent presence  of  Christ,  who  so  often  crossed  it 
in  going  to  and  from  Bethany,  and  retired  here  to 
meditate  and  to  commune  with  his  loved  followers, 
everything  that  the  traveler  at  present  encounters 
on  its  summit  is  out  of  sympathy  with  his  mem- 
ory. We  escaped  from  the  beggars  and  the  show- 
men, climbed  some  stone-walls,  and  in  a  rough 
field  near  the  brow  of  the  hill,  in  a  position  neither 
comfortable  nor  private,  but  the  best  that  we  found, 
read  the  chief  events  in  the  life  of  Christ  con- 
nected with  this  mount,  the  triumphal  entry,  and 
the  last  scenes  transacted  on  yonder  hill.  And  we 
endeavored  to  make  the  divine  man  live  again,  who 
so  often  and  so  sorrrowfully  regarded  the  then 
shining  city  of  Zion  from  this  height. 


112     NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM 

To  the  south  of  the  church  and  a  little  down  the 
hill  is  the  so-called  site  of  the  giving  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  I  do  not  know  on  what  authority  it  is 
thus  named.  A  chapel  is  built  to  mark  the  spot, 
and  a  considerable  space  is  inclosed  before  it,  in 
which  are  other  objects  of  interest,  and  these  were 
shown  to  us  by  a  pleasant-spoken  lady,  who  is  con- 
nected with  the  convent,  and  has  faith  equal  to  the 
demands  of  her  position.  We  first  entered  a  sub- 
terranean vaulted  room,  with  twelve  rough  half- 
pillars  on  each  side,  called  the  room  where  the 
Apostles  composed  the  creed.  We  then  passed 
into  the  chapel.  Upon  the  four  walls  of  its  arcade 
is  written,  in  great  characters,  the  Lord's  Prayer 
in  thirty-two  languages;  among  them  the  "Cana- 
dian." 

In  a  little  side  chapel  is  the  tomb  of  Aurelia  de 
Bossa,  Princesse  de  la  Tour  d'Auvergne,  Duchesse 
de  Bouillon,  the  lady  whose  munificence  estab- 
lished this  chapel  and  executed  the  prayer  in  so 
many  tongues.  Upon  the  side  of  the  tomb  this 
fact  of  her  benevolence  is  announced,  and  the  ex- 
pectation is  also  expressed,  in  French,  that  "God 
will  overwhelm  her  with  blessing  for  ever  and  ever 
for  her  good  deed."  Stretched  upon  the  sarco- 
phagus is  a  beautiful  marble  effigy  of  the  princess ; 
the  figure  is  lovely,  the  face  is  sweet  and  seraphic, 
and  it  is  a  perfect  likeness  of  her  ladyship. 

I  do  not  speak  at  random.  I  happen  to  know 
that  it  is  a  perfect  likeness,  for  a  few  minutes  after 
I  saw  it,  I  met  her  in  the  corridor,  in  a  semi-nun- 
like  costume,  with  a  heavy  cross  hanging  by  a  long 


THE   MOST   FORTUNATE   OF   WOMEN        113 

gold  chain  at  her  side.  About  her  forehead  was 
bound  a  barbarous  frontlet  composed  of  some  two 
hundred  gold  coins  and  ornaments,  not  unlike  those 
worn  by  the  ladies  of  the  ancient  Egyptians.  This 
incongruity  of  costume  made  me  hesitate  whether 
to  recognize  in  this  dazzling  vision  of  womanhood 
a  priestess  of  Astarte  or  of  Christ.  At  the  far- 
ther door,  Aurelia  de  Bossa,  Princesse  de  la  Tour 
d'Auvergne,  Duchesse  de  Bouillon,  stopped  and 
blew  shrilly  a  silver  whistle  which  hung  at  her 
girdle,  to  call  her  straying  poodle,  or  to  summon 
a  servant.  In  the  rear  of  the  chapel  this  lady  lives 
in  a  very  pretty  house,  and  near  it  she  was  build- 
ing a  convent  for  Carmelite  nuns.  I  cannot  but 
regard  her  as  the  most  fortunate  of  her  sex.  She 
enjoys  not  only  this  life,  but,  at  the  same  time,  all 
the  posthumous  reputation  that  a  lovely  tomb  and 
a  record  of  her  munificence  engraved  thereon  can 
give.  We  sometimes  hear  of,  but  we  seldom  see, 
a  person,  in  these  degenerate  days,  living  in  this 
world  as  if  already  in  the  other. 

We  went  on  over  the  hill  to  Bethany;  we  had 
climbed  up  by  the  path  on  which  David  fled  from 
Absalom,  and  we  were  to  return  by  the  road  of  the 
Triumphal  Entry.  All  along  the  ridge  we  en- 
joyed a  magnificent  panorama :  a  blue  piece  of  the 
Dead  Sea,  the  Jordan  plain  extending  far  up  to- 
wards Hermon  with  the  green  ribbon  of  the  river 
winding  through  it,  and  the  long,  even  range  of 
the  Moab  hills,  blue  in  the  distance.  The  prospect 
was  almost  Swiss  in  its  character,  but  it  is  a  mass 
of  bare  hills,  with  scarcely  a  tree  except  in  the  im- 


114     NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM 

mediate  foreground,  and  so  naked  and  desolate  as 
to  make  the  heart  ache ;  it  would  be  entirely  deso- 
late but  for  the  deep  blue  of  the  sky  and  an  at- 
mosphere that  bathes  all  the  great  sweep  of  peaks 
and  plains  in  color. 

Bethany  is  a  squalid  hamlet  clinging  to  the 
rocky  hillside,  with  only  one  redeeming  feature 
about  it,  —  the  prospect.  A  few  wretched  one- 
story  huts  of  stone,  and  a  miserable  handful  of 
Moslems,  occupy  this  favorite  home  and  resting- 
place  of  our  Lord.  Close  at  hand,  by  the  road- 
side, cut  in  the  rock  and  reached  by  a  steep  descent 
of  twenty-six  steps,  is  the  damp  and  doubtful 
tomb  of  Lazarus,  down  into  which  any  one  may 
go  for  half  a  franc  paid  to  the  Moslem  guardian. 
The  house  of  Mary  and  Martha  is  exhibited  among 
the  big  rocks  and  fragments  of  walls ;  upon  older 
foundations  loose  walls  are  laid,  rudely  and  re- 
cently patched  up  with  cut  stones  in  fragments, 
and  pieces  of  Roman  c.olumns.  The  house  of 
Simon  the  leper,  overlooking  the  whole,  is  a  mere 
heap  of  ruins.  It  does  not  matter,  however,  that 
all  these  dwellings  are  modern;  this  is  Bethany, 
and  when  we  get  away  from  its  present  wretched- 
ness we  remember  only  that  we  have  seen  the  very 
place  that  Christ  loved. 

We  returned  along  the  highway  of  the  Entry 
slowly,  pausing  to  identify  the  points  of  that  mem- 
orable progress,  up  to  the  crest  where  Jerusalem 
broke  upon  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  and  whence  the 
procession,  coming  round  the  curve  of  the  hill, 
would  have  the  full  view  of  the  city.  He  who  rides 


THE  GARDEN  OF  GETHSEMANE      115 

that  way  to-day  has  a  grand  prospect.  One  finds 
Jerusalem  most  poetic  when  seen  from  Olivet,  and 
Olivet  most  lovely  when  seen  from  the  distance  of 
the  city  walls. 

At  the  foot  of  the  descent  we  turned  and  entered 
the  inclosure  of  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  Three 
stone-wall  inclosures  here  claim  to  be  the  real  gar- 
den ;  one  is  owned  by  the  Greeks,  another  by  the 
Armenians,  the  third  by  the  Latins.  We  chose 
the  last,  as  it  is  the  largest  and  pleasantest;  per- 
haps the  garden,  which  was  certainly  in  this  vicin- 
ity, once  included  them  all.  After  some  delay  we 
were  admitted  by  a  small  door  in  the  wall,  and 
taken  charge  of  by  a  Latin  monk,  whose  young 
and  sweet  face  was  not  out  of  sympathy  with  the 
place.  The  garden  contains  a  few  aged  olive-trees, 
and  some  small  plots  of  earth,  fenced  about  and 
secured  by  locked  gates,  in  which  flowers  grow. 
The  guardian  gave  us  some  falling  roses,  and  did 
what  he  could  to  relieve  the  scene  of  its  artificial 
appearance ;  around  the  wall,  inside,  are  the  twelve 
stations  of  the  Passion,  in  the  usual  tawdry  style. 

But  the  birds  sang  sweetly  in  the  garden,  the 
flowers  of  spring  were  blooming,  and,  hemmed  in 
by  the  high  wall,  we  had  some  moments  of  solemn 
peace,  broken  only  by  the  sound  of  a  Moslem  da- 
rabooka  drum  throbbing  near  at  hand.  Desecrated 
as  this  spot  is,  and  made  cheap  by  the  petty  crea- 
tions of  superstition,  one  cannot  but  feel  the  awful 
significance  of  the  place,  and  the  weight  of  history 
crowding  upon  him,  where  battles  raged  for  a 
thousand  years,  and  where  the  greatest  victory  of 


116      NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM 

all  was  won  when  Christ  commanded  Peter  to  put 
up  his  sword.  Near  here  Titus  formed  his  columns 
which  stormed  the  walls  and  captured  the  heroic 
city,  after  its  houses,  and  all  this  valley  itself,  were 
filled  with  Jewish  dead ;  but  all  this  is  as  nothing 
to  the  event  of  that  awful  night  when  the  servants 
of  the  high-priest  led  away  the  unresisting  Lord. 

It  is  this  event,  and  not  any  other,  that  puts  an 
immeasurable  gulf  between  this  and  all  other  cities, 
and  perhaps  this  difference  is  mare  felt  the  farther 
one  is  from  Jerusalem.  The  visitor  expects  too 
much ;  he  is  unreasonably  impatient  of  the  contrast 
between  the  mean  appearance  of  the  theatre  and 
the  great  events  that  have  been  enacted  on  it; 
perhaps  he  is  not  prepared  for  the  ignorance,  the 
cupidity,  the  credulity,  the  audacious  impostures 
under  Christian  names,  on  the  spot  where  Chris- 
tianity was  born. 

When  one  has  exhausted  the  stock  sights  of 
Jerusalem,  it  is  probably  the  dullest,  least  enter- 
taining city  of  the  Orient;  I  mean,  in  itself,  for 
its  pilgrims  and  its  religious  fetes,  in  the  spring 
of  the  year,  offer  always  some  novelties  to  the 
sight-seer;  and,  besides,  there  is  a  certain  melan- 
choly pleasure  to  be  derived  from  roaming  about 
outside  the  walls,  enveloped  in  a  historic  illusion 
that  colors  and  clothes  the  nakedness  of  the  land- 
scape. 

The  chief  business  of  the  city  and  the  region 
seems  to  be  the  manufacture  of  religious  playthings 
for  the  large  children  who  come  here.  If  there  is 
any  factory  of  relics  here,  I  did  not  see  it.  Nor 


Olive-Tree  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane 


COUNTERFEIT   ANTIQUITIES  117 

do  I  know  whether  the  true  cross  has  still  the  power 
of  growing,  which  it  had  in  the  fourth  century,  to 
renew  itself  under  the  constant  demand  for  pieces 
of  it.  I  did  not  go  to  see  the  place  where  the  tree 
grew  of  which  it  was  made;  the  exact  spot  is 
shown  in  a  Greek  convent  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
west  of  the  city.  The  tree  is  said  to  have  been 
planted  by  Abraham  and  Noah.  This  is  evidently 
an  error ;  it  may  have  been  planted  by  Adam  and 
watered  by  Noah. 

There  is  not  much  trade  in  antiquities  in  the 
city;  the  shops  offer  little  to  tempt  the  curiosity- 
hunter.  Copper  coins  of  the  Roman  period  abound, 
and  are  constantly  turned  up  in  the  fields  outside 
the  city,  most  of  them  battered  and  defaced  beyond 
recognition.  Jewish  mites  are  plenty  enough,  but 
the  silver  shekel  would  be  rare  if  the  ingenious  Jews 
did  not  keep  counterfeits  on  hand.  The  tourist  is 
waited  on  at  his  hotel  by  a  few  patient  and  sleek 
sharks  with  cases  of  cheap  jewelry  and  doubtful 
antiques,  and  if  he  seeks  the  shops  of  the  gold  and 
silver  bazaars  he  will  find  little  more.  I  will  not 
say  that  he  will  not  now  and  then  pick  up  a  piece 
of  old  pottery  that  has  made  the  journey  from  Cen- 
tral Asia,  or  chance  upon  a  singular  stone  with  a 
talismanic  inscription.  The  hope  that  he  may  do 
so  carries  the  traveler  through  a  great  many  East- 
ern slums.  The  chief  shops,  however,  are  those 
of  trinkets  manufactured  for  the  pilgrims,  of  olive- 
wood,  ivory,  bone,  camels'  teeth,  and  all  manner 
of  nuts  and  seeds.  There  are  more  than  fifty  sorts 
of  beads,  strung  for  profane  use  or  arranged  for 


118     NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM 

rosaries,  and  some  of  them  have  pathetic  names, 
like  "Job's  tears."  Jerusalem  is  entitled  to  be 
called  the  City  of  Beads. 

There  is  considerable  activity  in  Jewish  objects 
that  are  old  and  rather  unclean ;  and  I  think  I  dis- 
covered something  like  an  attempt  to  make  a  "  cor- 
ner" in  phylacteries,  that  is,  in  old  ones,  for  the 
new  are  made  in  excess  of  the  demand.  If  a  per- 
son desires  to  carry  home  a  phylactery  to  exhibit 
to  his  Sunday-school,  in  illustration  of  the  religion 
of  the  Jews,  he  wants  one  that  has  been  a  long  time 
in  use.  I  do  not  suppose  it  possible  that  the  edu- 
cation of  any  other  person  is  as  deficient  as  mine 
was  in  the  matter  of  these  ornamental  aids  in  wor- 
ship. But  if  there  is  one,  this  description  is  for 
him:  the  phylactery,  common  size,  is  a  leathern 
box  about  an  inch  and  a  half  square,  with  two  nar- 
row straps  of  leather,  about  three  feet  long,  sewed 
to  the  bottom  corners.  The  box  contains  a  parch- 
ment roll  of  sacred  writing.  When  the  worshiper 
performs  his  devotions  in  the  synagogue,  he  binds 
one  of  the  phylacteries  about  his  left  arm  and  the 
other  about  his  head,  so  that  the  little  box  has 
something  of  the  appearance  of  a  leathern  horn 
sprouting  out  of  his  forehead.  Phylacteries  are 
worn  only  in  the  synagogue,  and  in  this  respect 
differ  from  the  greasy  leathern  talismans  of  the 
Nubians,  which  contain  scraps  from  the  Koran, 
and  are  never  taken  off.  Whatever  significance 
the  phylactery  once  had  to  the  Jew  it  seems  now 
to  have  lost,  since  he  is  willing  to  make  it  an  ar- 
ticle of  merchandise.  Perhaps  it  is  poverty  that 


THE   SHCEPIKA   COLLECTION  119 

compels  him  also  to  sell  his  ancient  scriptures; 
parchment  rolls  of  favorite  books,  such  as  Esther, 
that  are  some  centuries  old,  are  occasionally  to  be 
bought,  and  new  rolls,  deceitfully  doctored  into  an 
appearance  of  antiquity,  are  offered  freely. 

A  few  years  ago  the  antiquarian  world  was  put 
into  a  ferment  by  what  was  called  the  "  Shrepira 
collection,"  a  large  quantity  of  clay  pottery,  — 
gods,  votive  offerings,  images,  jars,  and  other  ves- 
sels, —  with  inscriptions  in  unknown  characters, 
which  was  said  to  have  been  dug  up  in  the  land  of 
Moab,  beyond  the  Jordan,  and  was  expected  to 
throw  great  light  upon  certain  passages  of  Jewish 
history,  and  especially  upon  the  religion  of  the 
heathen  who  occupied  Palestine  at  the  time  of 
the  conquest.  The  collection  was  sent  to  Berlin ; 
some  eminent  German  savans  pronounced  it  genu- 
ine ;  nearly  all  the  English  scholars  branded  it  as 
an  impudent  imposture.  Two  collections  of  the 
articles  have  been  sent  to  Berlin,  where  they  are 
stored  out  of  sight  of  the  public  generally,  and 
Mr.  Snrepira  has  made  a  third  collection,  which  he 
still  retains. 

Mr.  Shoepira  is  a  Hebrew  antiquarian  and  book- 
seller, of  somewhat  eccentric  manners,  but  an  en- 
thusiast. He  makes  the  impression  of  a  man  who 
believes  in  his  discoveries,  and  it  is  generally 
thought  in  Jerusalem  that  if  his  collection  is  a 
forgery,  he  himself  is  imposed  on.  The  account 
which  he  gives  of  the  places  where  the  images  and 
utensils  were  found  is  anything  but  clear  or  defi- 
nite. We  are  required  to  believe  that  they  have 


120  NEIGHBORHOODS    OF   JERUSALEM 

been  dug  up  in  caves  at  night  and  by  stealth,  and 
at  the  peril  of  the  lives  of  the  discoverers,  and  that 
it  is  not  safe  to  visit  these  caves  in  the  daytime  on 
account  of  the  Bedaween.  The  fresh-baked  ap- 
pearance of  some  of  the  articles  is  admitted,  and  it 
is  said  that  it  was  necessary  to  roast  them  to  pre- 
vent their  crumbling  when  exposed  to  the  air.  Our 
theory  in  regard  to  these  singular  objects  is  that  a 
few  of  those  first  shown  were  actually  discovered, 
and  that  all  the  remainder  have  been  made  in  imi- 
tation of  them.  Of  the  characters  (or  alphabet) 
of  the  inscriptions,  Mr.  Shoepira  says  he  has  deter- 
mined twenty -three ;  sixteen  of  these  are  Phoeni- 
cian, and  the  others,  his  critics  say,  are  meaning- 
less. All  the  objects  are  exceedingly  rude  and 
devoid  of  the  slightest  art ;  the  images  are  many  of 
them  indecent;  the  jars  are  clumsy  in  shape,  but 
the  inscriptions  are  put  on  with  some  skill.  The 
figures  are  supposed  to  have  been  votive  offerings, 
and  the  jars  either  memorial  or  sepulchral  urns. 

The  hideous  collection  appeared  to  me  sui  ge- 
neris, although  some  of  the  images  resemble  the 
rudest  of  those  called  Phoenician  which  General  di 
Cesnola  unearthed  in  Cyprus.  Without  merit,  they 
seem  to  belong  to  a  rude  age  rather  than  to  be  the 
inartistic  product  of  this  age.  That  is,  supposing 
them  to  be  forgeries,  I  cannot  see  how  these  figures 
could  be  conceived  by  a  modern  man,  who  was  ca- 
pable of  inventing  a  fraud  of  this  sort.  He  would 
have  devised  something  better,  at  least  something 
less  simple,  something  that  would  have  somewhere 
betrayed  a  little  modern  knowledge  and  feeling. 


THE   HEBREW  NATION  121 

All  the  objects  have  the  same  barbarous  tone,  a 
kind  of  character  that  is  distinct  from  their  rude- 
ness, and  the  same  images  and  designs  are  repeated 
over  and  over  again.  This  gives  color  to  the  the- 
ory that  a  few  genuine  pieces  of  Moabite  pottery 
were  found,  which  gave  the  idea  for  a  large  man- 
ufacture of  them.  And  yet,  there  are  people  who 
see  these  things,  and  visit  all  the  holy  places,  and 
then  go  away  and  lament  that  there  are  no  manu- 
factories in  Jerusalem. 

Jerusalem  attracts  while  it  repels;  and  both  it 
and  all  Palestine  exercise  a  spell  out  of  all  propor- 
tion to  the  consideration  they  had  in  the  ancient 
world.  The  student  of  the  mere  facts  of  history, 
especially  if  his  studies  were  made  in  Jerusalem 
itself,  would  be  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  place 
that  the  Holy  City  occupies  in  the  thought  of  the 
modern  world,  and  the  importance  attached  to  the 
history  of  the  handful  of  people  who  made  them- 
selves a  home  in  this  rocky  country.  The  Hebrew 
nation  itself,  during  the  little  time  it  was  a  nation, 
did  not  play  a  part  in  Oriental  affairs  at  all  com- 
mensurate with  its  posthumous  reputation.  It  was 
not  one  of  the  great  kingdoms  of  antiquity,  and  in 
that  theatre  of  war  and  conquest  which  spread  from 
Ethiopia  to  the  Caspian  Sea,  it  was  scarcely  an 
appreciable  force  in  the  great  drama. 

The  country  the  Hebrews  occupied  was  small; 
they  never  conquered  or  occupied  the  whole  of  the 
Promised  Land,  which  extended  from  the  Medi- 
terranean Sea  to  the  Arabian  plain,  from  Hamath 
to  Sinai.  Their  territory  in  actual  possession 


122  NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM 

reached  only  from  Dan  to  Beersheba.  The  coast 
they  never  subdued;  the  Philistines,  who  came 
from  Crete  and  grew  to  be  a  great  people  in  the 
plain,  held  the  lower  portion  of  Palestine  on  the 
sea,  and  the  Phoanicians  the  upper.  Except  dur- 
ing a  brief  period  in  their  history,  the  Jews  were 
confined  to  the  hill-country.  Only  during  the 
latter  part  of  the  reign  of  David  and  two  thirds  of 
that  of  Solomon  did  the  Jewish  kingdom  take  on 
the  proportions  of  a  great  state.  David  extended 
the  Israelitish  power  from  the  Gulf  of  Akaba 
to  the  Euphrates ;  Damascus  paid  him  tribute ;  he 
occupied  the  cities  of  his  old  enemies,  the  Philis- 
tines, but  the  kingdom  of  Tyre,  still  in  possession 
of  Hiram,  marked  the  limit  of  Jewish  sway  in  that 
direction.  This  period  of  territorial  consequence 
was  indeed  brief.  Before  Solomon  was  in  his 
grave,  the  conquests  bequeathed  to  him  by  his 
father  began  to  slip  from  his  hand.  The  life  of 
the  Israelites  as  a  united  nation,  as  anything  but 
discordant  and  warring  tribes,  after  the  death  of 
Joshua,  is  all  included  in  the  reigns  of  David  and 
Solomon,  —  perhaps  sixty  or  seventy  years. 

The  Israelites  were  essentially  highlanders. 
Some  one  has  noticed  their  resemblance  to  the 
Scotch  Highlanders  in  modes  of  warfare.  In 
fighting  they  aimed  to  occupy  the  heights.  They 
descended  into  the  plain  reluctantly;  they  made 
occasional  forays  into  the  lowlands,  but  their  hills 
were  their  strength,  as  the  Psalmist  said;  and 
they  found  security  among  their  crags  and  se- 
cluded glens  from  the  agitations  which  shook  the 


THE  KINGDOM  OF   ISRAEL  123 

great  empires  of  the  Eastern  world.  Invasions, 
retreats,  pursuits,  the  advance  of  devouring  hosts 
or  the  flight  of  panic-stricken  masses,  for  a  long 
time  passed  by  their  ridge  of  country  on  either 
side,  along  the  Mediterranean  or  through  the  land 
of  Moab.  They  were  out  of  the  track  of  Oriental 
commerce  as  well  as  of  war.  So  removed  were 
they  from  participation  in  the  stirring  affairs  of 
their  era  that  they  seem  even  to  have  escaped  the 
omnivorous  Egyptian  conquerors.  For  a  long 
period  conquest  passed  them  by,  and  it  was  not 
till  their  accumulation  of  wealth  tempted  the  ava- 
rice of  the  great  Asiatic  powers  that  they  were  in- 
volved in  the  conflicts  which  finally  destroyed  them. 
The  small  kingdom  of  Judah,  long  after  that  of 
Israel  had  been  utterly  swept  away,  owed  its  con- 
tinuance of  life  to  its  very  defensible  position. 
Solomon  left  Jerusalem  a  strong  city,  well  sup- 
plied with  water,  and  capable  of  sustaining  a  long 
siege,  while  the  rugged  country  around  it  offered 
little  comfort  to  a  besieging  army. 

For  a  short  time  David  made  the  name  of  Israel 
a  power  in  the  world,  and  Solomon,  inheriting  his 
reputation,  added  the  triumphs  of  commerce  to 
those  of  conquest.  By  a  judicious  heathen  alliance 
with  Hiram  of  Tyre  he  was  able  to  build  vessels 
on  the  Red  Sea  and  man  them  with  Phrenician  sail- 
ors, for  voyages  to  India  and  Ceylon ;  and  he  was 
admitted  by  Hiram  to  a  partnership  in  his  trading 
adventures  to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules.  But  these 
are  only  episodes  in  the  Jewish  career ;  the  nation's 
part  in  Oriental  history  is  comparatively  insignifi- 


124  NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM 

cant  until  the  days  of  their  great  calamities.  How 
much  attention  its  heroism  and  suffering  attracted 
at  that  time  we  do  not  know. 

Though  the  Israelites  during  their  occupation 
of  the  hill-country  of  Palestine  were  not  concerned 
in  the  great  dynastic  struggles  of  the  Orient,  they 
were  not,  however,  at  peace.  Either  the  tribes 
were  fighting  among  themselves,  or  they  were  in- 
volved in  sanguinary  fights  with  the  petty  heathen 
chiefs  about  them.  We  get  a  lively  picture  of  the 
habits  of  the  time  in  a  sentence  in  the  second  book 
of  Samuel:  "And  it  came  to  pass,  after  the  year 
was  expired,  at  the  time  when  kings  go  forth  to 
battle,  that  David  sent  Joab  and  his  servants  with 
him,  and  all  Israel;  and  they  destroyed  the  chil- 
dren of  Ammon,  and  besieged  Rabbah."  It  was 
a  pretty  custom.  In  that  season  when  birds  pair 
and  build  their  nests,  when  the  sap  mounts  in  the 
trees  and  travelers  long  to  go  into  far  countries, 
kings  felt  a  noble  impulse  in  their  veins  to  go  out 
and  fight  other  kings.  But  this  primitive  simpli- 
city was  mingled  with  shocking  barbarity ;  David 
once  put  his  captives  under  the  saw,  and  there  is 
nothing  to  show  that  the  Israelites  were  more 
moved  by  sentiments  of  pity  and  compassion  than 
their  heathen  neighbors.  There  was  occasionally, 
however,  a  grim  humor  in  their  cruelty.  When 
Judah  captured  King  Adoni-bezek,  in  Bezek,  he 
cut  off  his  great  toes  and  his  thumbs.  Adoni- 
bezek,  who  could  appreciate  a  good  thing,  accepted 
the  mutilation  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  offered, 
and  said  that  he  had  himself  served  seventy  kings 


IDOLATRY   OF  THE   JEWS  125 

in  that  fashion ;  "  threescore  and  ten  kings,  having 
their  thumbs  and  great  toes  cut  off,  gathered  their 
meat  under  my  table." 

From  the  death  of  Joshua  to  the  fall  of  Samaria, 
the  history  of  the  Jews  is  largely  a  history  of  civil 
war.  From  about  seven  hundred  years  before 
Christ,  Palestine  was  essentially  a  satrapy  of  the 
Assyrian  kings,  as  it  was  later  to  become  one  of 
the  small  provinces  of  the  Roman  empire.  At  the 
time  when  Sennacherib  was  waiting  before  Jerusa- 
lem for  Hezekiah  to  purchase  his  withdrawal  by 
stripping  the  gold  from  the  doors  of  the  Temple, 
the  foundations  of  a  city  were  laid  on  the  banks  of 
the  Tiber,  which  was  to  extend  its  sway  over  the 
known  world,  to  whose  dominion  the  utmost  power 
of  Jerusalem  was  only  a  petty  sovereignty,  and 
which  was  destined  to  rival  Jerusalem  itself  as  the 
spiritual  capital  of  the  earth. 

If  we  do  not  find  in  the  military  power  or  terri- 
torial consequence  of  the  Jews  an  explanation  of 
their  influence  in  the  modern  world,  still  less  do 
we  find  it  in  any  faithfulness  to  a  spiritual  religion, 
the  knowledge  of  which  was  their  chief  distinction 
among  the  tribes  about  them.  Their  lapses  from 
the  worship  of  Jehovah  were  so  frequent,  and  of 
such  long  duration,  that  their  returns  to  the  wor- 
ship of  the  true  God  seem  little  more  than  breaks 
in  their  practice  of  idolatry.  And  these  spasmodic 
returns  were  due  to  calamities,  and  fears  of  worse 
judgments.  Solomon  sanctioned  by  national  au- 
thority gross  idolatries  which  had  been  long  prac- 
ticed. At  his  death,  ten  of  the  tribes  seceded 


126      NEIGHBORHOODS  OF  JERUSALEM 

from  the  dominion  of  Judah  and  set  up  a  kingdom 
in  which  idolatry  was  made  and  remained  the  state 
religion,  until  the  ten  tribes  vanished  from  the 
theatre  of  history.  The  kingdom  of  Israel,  in  or- 
der to  emphasize  its  separation  from  that  of  Judah, 
set  up  the  worship  of  Jehovah  in  the  image  of  a 
golden  calf.  Against  this  state  religion  of  image- 
worship  the  prophets  seem  to  have  thought  it  in 
vain  to  protest;  they  contented  themselves  with 
battling  against  the  more  gross  and  licentious  idol- 
atries of  Baal  and  Ashtaroth;  and  Israel  always 
continued  the  idol-worship  established  by  Jero- 
boam. The  worship  of  Jehovah  was  the  state  re- 
ligion of  the  little  kingdom  of  Judah,  but  during 
the  period  of  its  existence,  before  the  Captivity,  I 
think  that  only  four  of  its  kings  were  not  idolaters. 
The  people  were  constantly  falling  away  into  the 
heathenish  practices  of  their  neighbors. 

If  neither  territorial  consequence  nor  religious 
steadfastness  gave  the  Jews  rank  among  the  great 
nations  of  antiquity,  they  would  equally  fail  of  the 
consideration  they  now  enjoy  but  for  one  thing, 
and  that  is,  after  all,  the  chief  and  enduring  pro- 
duct of  any  nationality ;  we  mean,  of  course,  its  lit- 
erature. It  is  by  that,  that  the  little  kingdoms  of 
Judah  and  Israel  hold  their  sway  over  the  world. 
It  is  that  which  invests  ancient  Jerusalem  with  its 
charm  and  dignity.  Not  what  the  Jews  did,  but 
the  songs  of  their  poets,  the  warnings  and  lamen- 
tations of  their  prophets,  the  touching  tales  of  their 
story-tellers,  draw  us  to  Jerusalem  by  the  most 
powerful  influences  that  affect  the  human  mind. 


HEBREW   LITERATURE  127 

And  most  of  this  unequaled  literature  is  the  pro- 
duct of  seasons  of  turbulence,  passion,  and  insecu- 
rity. Except  the  Proverbs  and  Song  of  Solomon, 
and  such  pieces  as  the  poem  of  Job  and  the  story 
of  Ruth,  which  seem  to  be  the  outcome  of  literary 
leisure,  the  Hebrew  writings  were  all  the  offspring 
of  exciting  periods.  David  composed  his  Psalms 
—  the  most  marvelous  interpreters  of  every  human 
aspiration,  exaltation,  want,  and  passion  —  with 
his  sword  in  his  hand;  and  the  prophets  always 
appear  to  ride  upon  a  whirlwind.  The  power  of 
Jerusalem  over  the  world  is  as  truly  a  literary 
one  as  that  of  Athens  is  one  of  art.  That  litera- 
ture was  unknown  to  the  ancients,  or  unappreci- 
ated: otherwise  contemporary  history  would  have 
considered  its  creators  of  more  consequence  than 
it  did. 

We  speak,  we  have  been  speaking,  of  the  Jeru- 
salem before  our  era,  and  of  the  interest  it  has  in- 
dependent of  the  great  event  which  is,  after  all,  its 
chief  claim  to  immortal  estimation.  It  becomes 
sacred  ground  to  us  because  there,  in  Bethlehem, 
Christ  was  born;  because  here  —  not  in  these 
streets,  but  upon  this  soil  —  he  walked  and  talked 
and  taught  and  ministered ;  because  upon  Olivet, 
yonder,  he  often  sat  with  his  disciples,  and  here, 
somewhere,  —  it  matters  not  where,  —  he  suffered 
death  and  conquered  death. 

This  is  the  scene  of  these  transcendent  events, 
We  say  it  to  ourselves  while  we  stand  here.  We 
can  clearly  conceive  it  when  we  are  at  a  distance. 
But  with  the  actual  Jerusalem  of  to-day  before  our 


128  NEIGHBORHOODS   OF   JERUSALEM 

eyes,  its  naked  desolation,  its  superstition,  its 
squalor,  its  vivid  contrast  to  what  we  conceive 
should  be  the  City  of  our  King,  we  find  it  easier 
to  feel  that  Christ  was  born  in  New  England  than 
in  Judaea. 


GOING  DOWN  TO  JERICHO 


T  is  on  a  lovely  spring  morning  that  we 
set  out  through  the  land  of  Benjamin 
to  go  down  among  the  thieves  of  Jeri- 
cho, and  to  the  Jordan  and  the  Dead 
Sea.  For  protection  against  the  thieves  we  take 
some  of  them  with  us,  since  you  cannot  in  these 
days  rely  upon  finding  any  good  Samaritans  there. 
For  some  days  Abd-el-Atti  has  been  in  myste- 
rious diplomatic  relations  with  the  robbers  of  the 
wilderness,  who  live  in  Jerusalem,  and  farm  out 
their  territory.  "Thim  is  great  rascals,"  says  the 
dragoman ;  and  it  is  solely  on  that  account  that  we 
seek  their  friendship:  the  real  Bedawee  is  never 
known  to  go  back  on  his  word  to  the  traveler  who 
trusts  him,  so  long  as  it  is  more  profitable  to  keep 
it  than  to  break  it.  We  are  under  the  escort  of 
the  second  sheykh,  who  shares  with  the  first  sheykh 
the  rule  of  all  the  Bedaween  who  patrol  the  exten- 
sive territory  from  Hebron  to  the  fords  of  the  Jor- 
dan, including  Jerusalem,  Bethlehem,  Mar  Saba, 
and  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea ;  these  rulers  would 
have  been  called  kings  in  the  old  time,  and  the 
second  sheykh  bears  the  same  relation  to  the  first 


130  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

that  the  Caesar  did  to  the  Augustus  in  the  Roman 
Empire. 

Our  train  is  assembled  in  the  little  market-place 
opposite  the  hotel,  or  rather  it  is  assembling,  for 
horses  and  donkeys  are  slow  to  arrive,  saddles  are 
wanting,  the  bridles  are  broken,  and  the  unpunc- 
tuality  and  shiftlessness  of  the  East  manifest  them- 
selves. Abd-el-Atti  is  in  fierce  altercation  with 
a  Koorland  nobleman  about  a  horse,  which  you 
would  not  say  would  be  likely  to  be  a  bone  of  con- 
tention with  anybody.  They  are  both  endeavoring 
to  mount  at  once.  Friends  are  backing  each  com- 
batant, and  the  air  is  thick  with  curses  in  guttural 
German  and  maledictions  in  shrill  Arabic.  Un- 
fortunately I  am  appealed  to. 

"What  for  this  Dutchman,  he  take  my  horse?  " 

"Perhaps  he  hired  it  first?" 

"P'aps  not.  I  make  bargain  for  him  with  the 
owner  day  before  yesterday." 

"I  have  become  dis  pferd  for  four  days,"  cries 
the  Baron. 

There  seems  to  be  no  reason  to  doubt  the  Bar- 
on's word;  he  has  ridden  the  horse  to  Bethlehem, 
and  become  accustomed  to  his  jolts,  and  no  doubt 
has  the  prior  lien  on  the  animal.  The  owner  has 
let  him  to  both  parties,  a  thing  that  often  happens 
when  the  second  comer  offers  a  piastre  more. 
Another  horse  is  sent  for,  and  we  mount  and  begin 
to  disentangle  ourselves  from  the  crowd.  It  is  no 
easy  matter,  especially  for  the  ladies.  Our  own 
baggage-mules  head  in  every  direction.  Donkeys 
laden  with  mountains  of  brushwood  push  through 


A   MIXED   TRAIN  131 

the  throng,  scraping  right  and  left ;  camels  shamble 
against  us,  their  contemptuous  noses  in  the  air, 
stretching  their  long  necks  over  our  heads ;  market- 
women  from  Bethlehem  scream  at  us ;  and  greasy 
pilgrims  block  our  way  and  curse  our  horses'  hoofs. 

One  by  one  we  emerge  and  get  into  a  straggling 
line,  and  begin  to  comprehend  the  size  of  our  ex- 
pedition. Our  dragoman  has  made  as  extensive 
preparations  as  if  we  were  to  be  the  first  to  occupy 
Gilgal  and  Jericho,  and  that  portion  of  the  Prom- 
ised Land.  We  are  equipped  equally  well  for 
fighting  and  for  famine.  A  party  of  Syrians,  who 
desire  to  make  the  pilgrimage  to  the  Jordan,  have 
asked  permission  to  join  us,  in  order  to  share  the 
protection  of  our  sheykh,  and  they  add  both  pic- 
turesqueness  and  strength  to  the  grand  cavalcade 
which  clatters  out  of  Jaffa  Gate  and  sweeps  round 
the  city  wall.  Heaven  keep  us  from  undue  pride 
in  our  noble  appearance ! 

Perhaps  our  train  would  impress  a  spectator  as 
somewhat  mixed,  and  he  would  be  unable  to  deter- 
mine the  order  of  its  march.  It  is  true  that  the 
horses  and  the  donkeys  and  the  mules  all  have 
different  rates  of  speed,  and  that  the  Syrian  horse 
has  only  two  gaits,  —  a  run  and  a  slow  walk.  As 
soon  as  we  gain  the  freedom  of  the  open  country, 
these  differences  develop.  The  ambitious  dragomen 
and  the  warlike  sheykh  put  their  horses  into  a  run 
and  scour  over  the  hills,  and  then  come  charging 
back  upon  us,  like  Don  Quixote  upon  the  flock  of 
sheep.  The  Syrians  imitate  this  madness.  The 
other  horses  begin  to  agitate  their  stiff  legs ;  the 


132  GOING  DOWN  TO  JERICHO 

donkeys  stand  still  and  protest  by  braying;  the 
pack-mules  get  temporarily  crazy,  charge  into  us 
with  the  protruding  luggage,  and  suddenly  wheel 
into  the  ditch  and  stop.  This  playfulness  is  re- 
peated in  various  ways,  and  adds  to  the  excitement 
without  improving  the  dignity  of  our  march. 

We  are  of  many  nationalities.  There  are  four 
Americans,  two  of  them  ladies.  The  Doctor,  who 
is  accustomed  to  ride  the  mustangs  of  New  Mexico 
and  the  wild  horses  of  the  Western  deserts,  en- 
deavors to  excite  a  spirit  of  eimdation  in  his  stiff- 
kneed  animal,  but  with  little  success.  Our  drag- 
oman is  Egyptian,  a  decidedly  heavy  weight,  and 
sits  his  steed  like  a  pyramid. 

The  sheykh  is  a  young  man,  with  the  treacher- 
ous eye  of  an  eagle ;  a  handsome  fellow,  who  rides 
a  lean  white  horse,  anything  but  a  beauty,  and  yet 
of  the  famous  Nedjed  breed  from  Mecca.  This 
desert  warrior  wears  red  boots,  white  trousers  and 
skirt,  blue  jacket,  a  yellow  kufia,  confined  about 
the  head  by  a  black  cord  and  falling  upon  his 
shoulders,  has  a  long  rifle  slung  at  his  back,  an 
immense  Damascus  sword  at  his  side,  and  huge 
pistols,  with  carved  and  inlaid  stocks,  in  his  belt. 
He  is  a  riding  arsenal  and  a  visible  fraud,  this 
Bedawee  sheykh.  We  should  no  doubt  be  quite 
as  safe  without  him,  and  perhaps  less  liable  to  va- 
rious extortions.  But  on  the  road,  and  from  the 
moment  we  set  out,  we  meet  Bedaween,  single  and 
in  squads,  savage -looking  vagabonds,  every  one 
armed  with  a  gun,  a  long  knife,  and  pistols  with 
blunderbuss  barrels,  flaring  in  such  a  manner  as  to 


SYRIAN   PILGRIMS  133 

scatter  shot  over  an  acre  of  ground.  These  scare- 
crows are  apparently  paraded  on  the  highway  to 
make  travelers  think  it  is  insecure.  But  I  am 
persuaded  that  none  of  them  would  dare  molest 
any  pilgrim  to  the  Jordan. 

Our  allies,  the  Syrians,  please  us  better.  There 
is  a  Frenchified  Syrian,  with  his  wife,  from  Man- 
sura,  in  the  Delta  of  Egypt.  The  wife  is  a  very 
pretty  woman  (would  that  her  example  were  more 
generally  followed  in  the  East),  with  olive  com- 
plexion, black  eyes,  and  a  low  forehead ;  a  native 
of  Sidon.  She  wears  a  dark  green  dress,  and  a 
yellow  kufia  on  her  head,  and  is  mounted  upon  a 
mule,  man-fashion,  but  upon  a  saddle  as  broad  as 
a  feather-bed.  Her  husband,  in  semi-Syrian  cos- 
tume, with  top-boots,  carries  a  gun  at  his  back  and 
a  frightful  knife  in  his  belt.  Her  brother,  who  is 
from  Sidon,  bears  also  a  gun,  and  wears  an  enor- 
mous sword.  Very  pleasant  people  these,  who 
have  armed  themselves  in  the  spirit  of  the  hunter 
rather  than  of  the  warrior,  and  are  as  completely 
equipped  for  the  chase  as  any  Parisian  who  ven- 
tures in  pursuit  of  game  into  any  of  the  dangerous 
thickets  outside  of  Paris. 

The  Sidon  wife  is  accompanied  by  two  servants, 
slaves  from  Soudan,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  each  about 
ten  years  old,  —  two  grinning,  comical  monkeys, 
who  could  not  by  any  possibility  be  of  the  slightest 
service  to  anybody,  unless  it  is  a  relief  to  their 
pretty  mistress  to  vent  her  ill-humor  upon  their 
irresponsible  persons.  You  couldn't  call  them 
handsome,  though  their  skins  are  of  dazzling  black, 


134  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

and  their  noses  so  flat  that  you  cannot  see  them  in 
profile.  The  girl  wears  a  silk  gown,  which  reaches 
to  her  feet  and  gives  her  the  quaint  appearance  of 
an  old  woman,  and  a  yellow  vest ;  the  boy  is  clad 
in  motley  European  clothes,  bought  second-hand 
with  reference  to  his  growing  up  to  them,  —  upon 
which  event  the  trousers-legs  and  cuffs  of  his  coat 
could  be  turned  down,  —  and  a  red  fez  contrasting 
finely  with  his  black  face.  They  are  both  mounted 
on  a  decrepit  old  horse,  whose  legs  are  like  sled- 
stakes,  and  they  sit  astride  on  top  of  a  pile  of  bag- 
gage, beds,  and  furniture,  with  bottles  and  camp- 
kettles  jingling  about  them.  The  girl  sits  behind 
the  boy  and  clings  fast  to  his  waist  with  one  hand, 
while  with  the  other  she  holds  over  their  heads  a 
rent  white  parasol,  to  prevent  any  injury  to  their 
jet  complexions.  When  the  old  baggage-horse 
starts  occasionally  into  a  hard  trot,  they  both  bob 
up  and  down,  and  strike  first  one  side  and  then 
the  other,  but  never  together ;  when  one  goes  up 
the  other  goes  down,  as  if  they  were  moved  by 
different  springs;  but  both  show  their  ivory  and 
seem  to  enjoy  themselves.  Heaven  knows  why 
they  should  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Jordan. 

Our  Abyssinian  servant,  Abdallah,  is  mounted 
also  on  a  pack-horse,  and  sits  high  in  the  air  amid 
bags  and  bundles ;  he  guides  his  brute  only  by  a 
halter,  and  when  the  animal  takes  a  fancy  to  break 
into  a  gallop,  there  is  a  rattling  of  dishes  and  ket- 
tles that  sets  the  whole  train  into  commotion ;  the 
boy's  fez  falls  farther  than  ever  back  on  his  head, 
his  teeth  shine,  and  his  eyes  dance  as  he  jolts  into 


THE   WILDERNESS   OF  JUDAEA  135 

the  midst  of  the  mules  and  excites  a  panic,  which 
starts  everything  into  friskiness,  waking  up  even 
the  Soudan  party,  which  begins  to  bob  about  and 
grin.  There  are  half  a  dozen  mules  loaded  with 
tents  and  bed  furniture;  the  cook,  and  the  cook's 
assistants,  and  the  servants  of  the  kitchen  and  the 
camp  are  mounted  on  something,  and  the  train  is 
attended  besides  by  drivers  and  ostlers,  of  what 
nations  it  pleases  Heaven.  But  this  is  not  all. 
We  carry  with  us  two  hunting  dogs,  the  property 
of  the  Syrian.  The  dogs  are  not  for  use ;  they  are 
a  piece  of  ostentation,  like  the  other  portion  of  the 
hunting  outfit,  and  contribute,  as  do  the  Soudan 
babies,  to  our  appearance  of  Oriental  luxury. 

We  straggle  down  through  the  Valley  of  Jehosh- 
aphat,  and  around  the  Mount  of  Olives  to  Beth- 
any ;  and  from  that  sightly  slope  our  route  is  spread 
before  us  as  if  we  were  looking  upon  a  map.  It 
lies  through  the  "wilderness  of  Judaea."  We  are 
obliged  to  revise  our  Western  notions  of  a  wilder- 
ness as  a  region  of  gross  vegetation.  The  Jews 
knew  a  wilderness  when  they  saw  it,  and  how  to 
name  it.  You  would  be  interested  to  know  what 
a  person  who  lived  at  Jerusalem,  or  anywhere 
along  the  backbone  of  Palestine,  would  call  a  wil- 
derness. Nothing  but  the  absolute  nakedness  of 
desolation  could  seem  to  him  dreary.  But  this 
region  must  have  satisfied  even  a  person  accustomed 
to  deserts  and  pastures  of  rocks.  It  is  a  jumble 
of  savage  hills  and  jagged  ravines,  a  land  of  lime- 
stone rocks  and  ledges,  whitish  gray  in  color,  glar- 
ing in  the  sun,  even  the  stones  wasted  by  age, 


136  GOING  DOWN  TO  JERICHO 

relieved  nowhere  by  a  tree,  or  rejoiced  by  a  single 
blade  of  grass.  Wild  beasts  would  starve  in  it, 
the  most  industrious  bird  couldn't  collect  in  its 
length  and  breadth  enough  soft  material  to  make  a 
nest  of;  it  is  what  a  Jew  of  Hebron  or  Jerusalem 
or  Ramah  would  call  a  "wilderness"  !  This  ex- 
hausts the  language  of  description.  How  vividly 
in  this  desolation  stands  out  the  figure  of  the  pro- 
phet of  God,  clothed  with  camel's  hair  and  with 
a  girdle  of  skin  about  his  loins,  "the  voice  of  one 
crying  in  the  wilderness." 

The  road  is  thronged  with  Jordan  pilgrims.  We 
overtake  them,  they  pass  us,  we  meet  them  in  an 
almost  continuous  train.  Most  of  them  are  peas- 
ants from  Armenia,  from  the  borders  of  the  Black 
Sea,  from  the  Caucasus,  from  Abyssinia.  The 
great  mass  are  on  foot,  trudging  wearily  along  with 
their  bedding  and  provisions,  the  thick -legged  wo- 
men carrying  the  heaviest  loads ;  occasionally  you 
see  a  pilgrim  asleep  by  the  roadside,  his  pillow 
a  stone.  But  the  travelers  are  by  no  means  all 
poor  or  unable  to  hire  means  of  conveyance,  —  you 
would  say  that  Judaea  had  been  exhausted  of  its 
beasts  of  burden  of  all  descriptions  for  this  pil- 
grimage, and  that  even  the  skeletons  had  been  ex- 
humed to  assist  in  it.  The  pilgrims  are  mounted 
on  sorry  donkeys,  on  wrecks  of  horses,  on  mules, 
sometimes  an  entire  family  on  one  animal.  Now 
and  then  we  encounter  a  "swell"  outfit,  a  wealthy 
Russian  well  mounted  on  a  richly  caparisoned 
horse  and  attended  by  his  servants ;  some  ride  in 
palanquins,  some  in  chairs.  We  overtake  an  Eng- 


STRANGE   OUTFITS  137 

lish  party,  the  central  figure  of  which  is  an  elderly 
lady,  who  rides  in  a  sort  of  high  cupboard  slung  on 
poles,  and  borne  by  a  mule  before  and  a  mule  be- 
hind ;  the  awkward  vehicle  sways  and  tilts  back- 
wards and  forwards,  and  the  good  woman  looks 
out  of  the  window  of  her  coop  as  if  she  were  sea- 
sick of  the  world.  Some  ladies,  who  are  unaccus- 
tomed to  horses,  have  arm-chairs  strapped  upon 
the  horses'  backs,  in  which  they  sit.  Now  and 
then  two  chairs  are  strapped  upon  one  horse,  and 
the  riders  sit  back  to  back.  Sometimes  huge  pan- 
niers slung  on  the  sides  of  the  horse  are  used  in- 
stead of  chairs,  the  passengers  riding  securely  in 
them  without  any  danger  of  falling  out.  It  is 
rather  a  pretty  sight  when  each  basket  happens  to 
be  full  of  children.  There  is,  indeed,  no  end  to 
the  strange  outfits  and  the  odd  costumes.  Nearly 
all  the  women  who  are  mounted  at  all  are  perched 
upon  the  top  of  all  their  household  goods  and 
furniture,  astride  of  a  bed  on  the  summit.  There 
approaches  a  horse  which  seems  to  have  a  sofa  on 
its  back,  upon  which  four  persons  are  seated  in  a 
row,  as  much  at  ease  as  if  at  home ;  it  is  not,  how- 
ever, a  sofa;  four  baskets  have  been  ingeniously 
fastened  into  a  frame,  so  that  four  persons  can  ride 
in  them  abreast.  This  is  an  admirable  contrivance 
for  the  riders,  much  better  than  riding  in  a  row 
lengthwise  on  the  horse,  when  the  one  in  front  hides 
the  view  from  those  behind. 

Diverted  by  this  changing  spectacle,  we  descend 
from  Bethany.  At  first  there  are  wild-flowers  by 
the  wayside  and  in  the  fields,  and  there  is  a  flush 


138  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

of  verdure  on  the  hills,  all  of  which  disappears 
later.  The  sky  is  deep  blue  and  cloudless,  the  air 
is  exhilarating;  it  is  a  day  for  enjoyment,  and 
everything  and  everybody  we  encounter  are  in  a 
joyous  mood,  and  on  good  terms  with  the  world. 
The  only  unamiable  exception  is  the  horse  with 
which  I  have  been  favored.  He  is  a  stocky  little 
stallion,  of  good  shape,  but  ignoble  breed,  and  the 
devil  —  which  is,  I  suppose,  in  the  horse  what  the 
old  Adam  is  in  man  —  has  never  been  cast  out  of 
him.  At  first  I  am  in  love  with  his  pleasant  gait 
and  mincing  ways,  but  I  soon  find  that  he  has 
eccentricities  that  require  the  closest  attention  on 
my  part,  and  leave  me  not  a  moment  for  the  scen- 
ery or  for  biblical  reflections.  The  beast  is  neither 
content  to  go  in  front  of  the  caravan  nor  in  the 
rear;  he  wants  society,  but  the  instant  he  gets 
into  the  crowd  he  lets  his  heels  fly  right  and  left. 
After  a  few  performances  of  this  sort,  and  when 
he  has  nearly  broken  the  leg  of  the  Syrian,  my  com- 
pany is  not  desired  any  more  by  any  one.  No  one 
is  willing  to  ride  within  speaking  distance  of  me. 
This  sort  of  horse  may  please  the  giddy  and 
thoughtless,  but  he  is  not  the  animal  for  me.  By 
the  time  we  reach  the  fountain  'Ain  el-Huad,  I 
have  quite  enough  of  him,  and  exchange  steeds 
with  the  dragoman,  much  against  the  latter 's  fancy ; 
he  keeps  the  brute  the  remainder  of  the  day  can- 
tering over  stones  and  waste  places  along  the  road, 
and  confesses  at  night  that  his  bridle-hand  is  so 
swollen  as  to  be  useless. 

We  descend  a  steep  hill  to  this  fountain,  which 


THE   FOUNTAIN  *AIN   EL-HUAD  139 

flows  from  a  broken  Saracenic  arch,  and  waters  a 
valley  that  is  altogether  stony  and  unfertile  except 
in  some  patches  of  green.  It  is  a  general  halting- 
place  for  travelers,  and  presents  a  most  animated 
appearance  when  we  arrive.  Horses,  mules,  and 
men  are  struggling  together  about  the  fountain  to 
slake  their  thirst ;  but  there  is  no  trough  nor  any 
pool,  and  the  only  mode  to  get  the  water  is  to  catch 
it  in  the  mouth  as  it  drizzles  from  the  hole  in  the 
arch.  It  is  difficult  for  a  horse  to  do  this,  and  the 
poor  things  are  beside  themselves  with  thirst. 
Near  by  are  some  stone  ruins  in  which  a  man  and 
woman  have  set  up  a  damp  coffee-shop,  sherbet- 
shop,  and  smoking  station.  From  them  I  borrow 
a  shallow  dish,  and  succeed  in  getting  water  for 
my  horse,  an  experiment  which  seems  to  surprise 
all  nations.  The  shop  is  an  open  stone  shed  with 
a  dirt  floor,  offering  only  stools  to  the  customers ; 
yet  when  the  motley  crowd  are  seated  in  and 
around  it,  sipping  coffee  and  smoking  the  nar- 
ghilehs  (water-pipes)  with  an  air  of  leisure  as 
if  to-day  would  last  forever,  you  have  a  scene  of 
Oriental  luxury. 

Our  way  lies  down  a  winding  ravine.  The 
country  is  exceedingly  rough,  like  the  Wyoming 
hills,  but  without  trees  or  verdure.  The  bed  of 
the  stream  is  a  mass  of  rock  in  shelving  ledges ; 
all  the  rock  in  sight  is  a  calcareous  limestone.  Af- 
ter an  hour  of  this  sort  of  secluded  travel  we  ascend 
again  and  reach  the  Bed  Khan,  and  a  scene  still 
more  desolate  because  more  extensive.  The  khan 
takes  its  name  from  the  color  of  the  rocks ;  perched 


140  GOING   DOWN   TO    JERICHO 

upon  a  high  ledge  are  the  ruins  of  this  ancient 
caravansary,  little  more  now  than  naked  walls. 
We  take  shelter  for  lunch  in  a  natural  rock  grotto 
opposite,  exactly  the  shadow  of  a  rock  longed  for 
in  a  weary  land.  Here  we  spread  our  gay  rugs, 
the  servants  unpack  the  provision  hampers,  and 
we  sit  and  enjoy  the  wide  view  of  barrenness  and 
the  picturesque  groups  of  pilgrims.  The  spot  is 
famous  for  its  excellent  well  of  water.  It  is,  be- 
sides, the  locality  usually  chosen  for  the  scene  of 
the  adventure  of  the  man  who  went  down  to  Jeri- 
cho and  fell  among  thieves,  this  being  the  khan  at 
which  he  was  entertained  for  twopence.  We  take 
our  siesta  here,  reflecting  upon  the  great  advance 
in  hotel  prices,  and  endeavoring  to  re-create  some- 
thing of  that  past  when  this  was  the  highway  be- 
tween great  Jerusalem  and  the  teeming  plain  of 
the  Jordan.  The  Syro-Pho3nician  woman  smoked 
a  narghileh,  and,  looking  neither  into  the  past  nor 
the  future,  seemed  to  enjoy  the  present. 

From  this  elevation  we  see  again  the  brown 
Jordan  Valley  and  the  Dead  Sea.  Our  road  is 
downward  more  precipitously  than  it  has  been  be- 
fore. The  rocks  are  tossed  about  tumultuously, 
and  the  hills  are  rent,  but  there  is  no  evidence  of 
any  volcanic  action.  Some  of  the  rock  stratas  are 
bent,  as  you  see  the  granite  in  the  White  Moun- 
tains, but  this  peculiarity  disappears  as  we  ap- 
proach nearer  to  the  Jordan.  The  translator  of 
M.  Francois  Lenormant's  "Ancient  History  of 
the  East"  says  that  "the  miracles  which  accompa- 
nied the  entrance  of  the  Israelites  into  Palestine 


ELIJAH'S  HIDING-PLACE  141 

seem  such  as  might  have  been  produced  by  vol- 
canic agency."  No  doubt  they  might  have  been; 
but  this  whole  region  is  absolutely  without  any 
appearance  of  volcanic  disturbance. 

As  we  go  on,  we  have  on  our  left  the  most  re- 
markable ravine  in  Palestine ;  it  is  in  fact  a  canon 
in  the  rocks,  some  five  hundred  feet  deep,  the  sides 
of  which  are  nearly  perpendicular.  At  the  bottom 
of  it  flows  the  brook  Cherith,  finding  its  way  out 
into  the  Jordan  plain.  We  ride  to  the  brink  and 
look  over  into  the  abyss.  It  was  about  two  thou- 
sand seven  hundred  and  eighty -nine  years  ago,  and 
probably  about  this  time  of  the  year  (for  the  brook 
went  dry  shortly  after),  that  Elijah,  having  in- 
curred the  hostility  of  Ahab,  who  held  his  luxu- 
rious court  at  Samaria,  by  prophesying  against 
him,  came  over  from  Gilead  and  hid  himself  in 
this  ravine. 

"Down  there,"  explains  Abd-el-Atti,  "the  pro- 
phet Elijah  fed  him  the  ravens  forty  days.  Not 
have  that  kind  of  ravens  now." 

Unattractive  as  this  abyss  is  for  any  but  a  tem- 
porary summer  residence,  the  example  of  Elijah 
recommended  it  to  a  great  number  of  people  in  a 
succeeding  age.  In  the  wall  of  the  precipice  are 
cut  grottos,  some  of  them  so  high  above  the  bed  of 
the  stream  that  they  are  apparently  inaccessible, 
and  not  unlike  the  tombs  in  the  high  cliffs  along 
the  Nile.  In  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  monks 
swarmed  in  all  the  desert  places  of  Egypt  and 
Syria  like  rabbits;  these  holes,  near  the  scene  of 
Elijah's  miraculous  support,  were  the  abodes  of 


142  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

Christian  hermits,  most  of  whom  starved  them- 
selves down  to  mere  skin  and  bones  waiting  for  the 
advent  of  the  crows.  On  the  ledge  above  are  the 
ruins  of  ancient  chapels,  which  would  seem  to  show 
that  this  was  a  place  of  some  resort,  and  that  the 
hermits  had  spectators  of  their  self-denial.  You 
misrht  as  well  be  a  woodchuck  and  sit  in  a  hole  as 

O 

a  monk,  unless  somebody  comes  and  looks  at  you. 

As  we  advance,  the  Jordan  valley  opens  more 
broadly  upon  our  sight.  At  this  point,  which  is 
the  historical  point,  the  scene  of  the  passage  of  the 
Jordan  and  the  first  appearance  of  the  Israelitish 
clans  in  the  Promised  Land,  the  valley  is  ten  miles 
broad.  It  is  by  no  means  a  level  plain ;  from  the 
west  range  of  mountains  it  slopes  to  the  river,  and 
the  surface  is  broken  by  hillocks,  ravines,  and 
water-courses.  The  breadth  is  equal  to  that  be- 
tween the  Connecticut  River  at  Hartford  and  the 
Talcott  range  of  hills.  To  the  north  we  have  in 
view  the  valley  almost  to  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  and 
can  see  the  white  and  round  summit  of  Hermon 
beyond;  on  the  east  and  on  the  west  the  barren 
mountains  stretch  in  level  lines;  and  on  the  south 
the  blue  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea  continue  the  val- 
ley between  ranges  of  purple  and  poetic  rocky 
cliffs. 

The  view  is  magnificent  in  extent,  and  plain 
and  hills  glow  with  color  in  this  afternoon  light. 
Yonder,  near  the  foot  of  the  eastern  hills,  we  trace 
the  winding  course  of  the  Jordan  by  a  green  belt 
of  trees  and  bushes.  The  river  we  cannot  see,  for 
the  "bottom"  of  the  river,  to  use  a  Western 


THE   JORDAN   VALLEY  143 

phrase,  from  six  hundred  to  fifteen  hundred  feet 
in  breadth,  is  sunk  below  the  valley  a  hundred  feet 
and  more.  This  bottom  is  periodically  over- 
flowed. The  general  aspect  of  the  plain  is  that  of 
a  brown  desert,  the  wild  vegetation  of  which  is 
crisped  by  the  scorching  sun.  There  are,  however, 
threads  of  verdure  in  it,  where  the  brook  Cherith 
and  the  waters  from  the  fountain  'Ain  es-Sultan 
wander  through  the  neglected  plain,  and  these 
strips  of  green  widen  into  the  thickets  about  the 
little  village  of  Riha,  the  site  of  ancient  Gilgal. 
This  valley  is  naturally  fertile ;  it  may  very  likely 
have  been  a  Paradise  of  fruit  -  trees  and  grass 
and  sparkling  water  when  the  Jews  looked  down 
upon  it  from  the  mountains  of  Moab ;  it  certainly 
bloomed  in  the  Roman  occupation ;  and  the  ruins 
of  sugar-mills  still  existing  show  that  the  crusad- 
ing Christians  made  the  cultivation  of  the  sugar- 
cane successful  here ;  it  needs  now  only  the  waters 
of  the  Jordan  and  the  streams  from  the  western 
foot  -  hills  directed  by  irrigating  ditches  over  its 
surface,  moistening  its  ashy  and  nitrous  soil,  to 
become  again  a  fair  and  smiling  land. 

Descending  down  the  stony  and  precipitous  road, 
we  turn  north,  still  on  the  slope  of  the  valley. 
The  scant  grass  is  already  crisped  by  the  heat,  the 
bushes  are  dry  skeletons.  A  ride  of  a  few  minutes 
brings  us  to  some  artificial  mounds  and  ruins  of 
buildings  upon  the  bank  of  the  brook  Cherith. 
The  brickwork  is  the  fine  reticulated  masonry  such 
as  you  see  in  the  remains  of  Roman  villas  at  Tus- 
culum.  This  is  the  site  of  Herod's  Jericho,  the 


144  GOIXG   DOWN   TO    JERICHO 

Jericho  of  the  New  Testament.  But  the  Jericho 
which  Joshua  destroyed  and  the  site  of  which  he 
cursed,  the  Jericho  which  Hiel  rebuilt  in  the  days 
of  the  wicked  Ahab,  and  where  Elisha  abode  after 
the  translation  of  Elijah,  was  a  half  mile  to  the 
north  of  this  modern  town. 

We  have  some  difficulty  in  fording  the  brook 
Cherith,  for  the  banks  are  precipitous  and  the 
stream  is  deep  and  swift;  those  who  are  mounted 
upon  donkeys  change  them  for  horses,  the  Arab 
attendants  wade  in,  guiding  the  stumbling  animals 
which  the  ladies  ride,  the  lumbering  beast  with  the 
Soudan  babies  comes  splashing  in  at  the  wrong  mo- 
ment, to  the  peril  of  those  already  in  the  torrent, 
and  is  nearly  swept  away ;  the  sheykh  and  the  ser- 
vants who  have  crossed  block  the  narrow  landing; 
but  with  infinite  noise  and  floundering  about  we 
all  come  safely  over,  and  gallop  along  a  sort  of 
plateau,  interspersed  with  thorny  nublc  and  scraggy 
bushes.  Going  on  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and 
encountering  cultivated  spots,  we  find  our  tents  al- 
ready pitched  on  the  bushy  bank  of  a  little  stream 
that  issues  from  the  fountain  of  'Ain  es-Sultan  a 
few  rods  above.  Near  the  camp  is  a  high  mound 
of  rubbish.  This  is  the  site  of  our  favorite  Jericho, 
a  name  of  no  majesty  like  that  of  Rome,  and  en- 
deared to  us  by  no  associations  like  Jerusalem,  but 
almost  as  widely  known  as  either;  probably  even 
its  wickedness  would  not  have  preserved  its  repu- 
tation, but  for  the  singular  incident  that  attended 
its  first  destruction.  Jericho  must  have  been  a 
city  of  some  consequence  at  the  time  of  the  arrival 


THE   FALL   OF   JERICHO  145 

of  the  Israelites ;  we  gain  an  idea  of  the  civilization 
of  its  inhabitants  from  the  nature  of  the  plunder 
that  Joshua  secured;  there  were  vessels  of  silver 
and  of  gold,  and  of  brass  and  iron ;  and  this  was 
over  fourteen  hundred  years  before  Christ. 

Before  we  descend  to  our  encampment,  we  pause 
for  a  survey  of  this  historic  region.  There,  to- 
wards Jordan,  among  the  trees,  is  the  site  of  Gil- 
gal  (another  name  that  shares  the  half -whimsical 
reputation  of  Jericho),  where  the  Jews  made  their 
first  camp.  The  king  of  Jericho,  like  his  royal 
cousins  round  about,  had  "no  more  spirit  in  him" 
when  he  saw  the  Israelitish  host  pass  the  Jordan. 
He  shut  himself  up  in  his  insufficient  walls,  and 
seems  to  have  made  no  attempt  at  a  defense.  Over 
this  upland  the  Jews  swarmed,  and  all  the  armed 
host  with  seven  priests  and  seven  rams'  horns 
marched  seven  days  round  and  round  the  doomed 
city,  and  on  the  seventh  day  the  people  shouted  the 
walls  down.  Every  living  thing  in  the  city  was  de- 
stroyed except  Rahab  and  her  family,  the  town  was 
burned,  and  for  five  hundred  years  thereafter  no 
man  dared  to  build  upon  its  accursed  foundations. 
Why  poor  Jericho  was  specially  marked  out  for 
malediction  we  are  not  told. 

When  it  was  rebuilt  in  Ahab's  time,  the  sons  of 
the  prophets  found  it  an  agreeable  place  of  resi- 
dence ;  large  numbers  of  them  were  gathered  here 
while  Elijah  lived,  and  they  conversed  with  that 
prophet  when  he  was  on  his  last  journey  through 
this  valley,  which  he  had  so  often  traversed,  com- 
pelled by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord.  No  incident  in 


146  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

the  biblical  story  so  strongly  appeals  to  the  ima- 
gination, nor  is  there  anything  in  the  poetical  con- 
ception of  any  age  so  sublime  as  the  last  passage 
of  Elijah  across  this  plain  and  his  departure  into 
heaven  beyond  Jordan.  When  he  came  from 
Bethel  to  Jericho,  he  begged  Elisha,  his  atten- 
dant, to  tarry  here ;  but  the  latter  would  not  yield 
either  to  his  entreaty  or  to  that  of  the  sons  of  the 
prophets.  We  can  see  the  way  the  two  prophets 
went  hence  to  Jordan.  Fifty  men  of  the  sons  of 
the  prophets  went  and  stood  to  view  them  afar  off, 
and  they  saw  the  two  stand  by  Jordan.  Already 
it  was  known  that  Elijah  was  to  disappear,  and 
the  two  figures,  lessening  in  the  distance,  were  fol- 
lowed with  a  fearful  curiosity.  Did  they  pass  on 
swiftly,  and  was  there  some  premonition,  in  the 
wind  that  blew  their  flowing  mantles,  of  the  heav- 
enly gale?  Elijah  smites  the  waters  with  his  man- 
tle, the  two  pass  over  dry-shod,  and  "as  they  still 
went  on  and  talked,  behold  there  appeared  a 
chariot  of  fire,  and  horses  of  fire,  and  parted  them 
both  asunder;  and  Elijah  went  up  by  a  whirlwind 
into  heaven.  And  Elisha  saw  it,  and  he  cried, 
My  father,  my  father,  the  chariot  of  Israel  and 
the  horsemen  thereof.  And  he  saw  him  no  more." 
Elisha  returned  to  Jericho  and  abode  there  while 
the  sons  of  the  prophets  sought  for  Elijah  beyond 
Jordan  three  days,  but  did  not  find  him.  And  the 
men  of  the  city  said  to  Elisha,  "Behold,  I  pray 
thee,  the  situation  of  this  city  is  pleasant,  as  my 
lord  seeth,  but  the  water  is  naught  and  the  ground 
barren."  Then  Elisha  took  salt  and  healed  the 


A   REGION   OF   MIRACLES  147 

spring  of  water;  and  ever  since,  to  this  day,  the 
fountain,  now  called  'Ain  es-Sultan,  has  sent  forth 
sweet  water. 

Turning  towards  the  northwest,  we  see  the  pas- 
sage through  the  mountain,  by  the  fountain  'Ain 
Duk,  to  Bethel.  It  was  out  of  some  woods  there, 
where  the  mountain  is  now  bare,  that  Elisha  called 
the  two  she-bears  which  administered  that  dreadful 
lesson  to  the  children  who  derided  his  baldness. 
All  the  region,  indeed,  recalls  the  miracles  of 
Elisha.  It  was  probably  here  that  Naaman  the 
Syrian  came  to  be  healed;  there  at  Gilgal  Elisha 
took  the  death  out  of  the  great  pot  in  which  the 
sons  of  the  prophets  were  seething  their  pottage ; 
and  it  was  there  in  the  Jordan  that  he  made  the 
iron  axe  to  swim. 

Of  all  this  celebrated  and  ill-fated  Jericho, 
nothing  now  remains  but  a  hillock  and  Elisha's 
spring.  The  wild  beasts  of  the  desert  prowl  about 
it,  and  the  night-bird  hoots  over  its  fall,  —  a  sort 
of  echo  of  the  shouts  that  brought  down  its  walls. 
Our  tents  are  pitched  near  the  hillock,  and  the 
animals  are  picketed  on  the  open  ground  before 
them  by  the  stream.  The  Syrian  tourist  in  these 
days  travels  luxuriously.  Our  own  party  has  four 
tents,  —  the  kitchen  tent,  the  dining  tent,  and  two 
for  lodging.  They  are  furnished  with  tables, 
chairs,  all  the  conveniences  of  the  toilet,  and  car- 
peted with  bright  rugs.  The  cook  is  an  artist,  and 
our  table  is  one  that  would  have  astonished  the 
sons  of  the  prophets.  The  Syrian  party  have  their 
own  tents;  a  family  from  Kentucky  has  camped 


148  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

near  by ;  and  we  give  to  Jericho  a  settled  appear- 
ance. The  elder  sheykh  accompanies  the  other 
party  of  Americans,  so  that  we  have  now  all  the 
protection  possible. 

The  dragoman  of  the  Kentuckians  we  have  al- 
ready encountered  in  Egypt  and  on  the  journey, 
and  been  impressed  by  his  respectable  gravity.  It 
would  perhaps  be  difficult  for  him  to  tell  his  nation- 
ality or  birthplace ;  he  wears  the  European  dress, 
and  his  gold  spectacles  and  big  stomach  would 
pass  him  anywhere  for  a  German  professor.  He 
seems  out  of  place  as  a  dragoman,  but  if  any  one 
desired  a  savant  as  a  companion  in  the  East,  he 
would  be  the  man.  Indeed,  his  employers  soon  dis- 
cover that  his  forte  is  information,  and  not  work. 
While  the  other  servants  are  busy  about  the  camps 
Antonio  comes  over  to  our  tent,  and  opens  up  the 
richness  of  his  mind,  and  illustrates  his  capacity 
as  a  Syrian  guide. 

"You  know  that  mountain,  there,  with  the 
chapel  on  top?"  he  asks. 

"No." 

"Well,  that  is  Mt.  Nebo,  and  that  one  next  to 
it  is  Pisgah,  the  mountain  of  the  prophet  Moses." 

Both  these  mountains  are  of  course  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Jordan  in  the  Moab  range.,  but  they 
are  not  identified,  —  except  by  Antonio.  The 
sharp  mountain  behind  us  is  Quarantania,  the 
Mount  of  Christ's  Temptation.  Its  whole  side  to 
the  summit  is  honeycombed  with  the  cells  of  her- 
mits who  once  dwelt  there,  and  it  is  still  the  resort 
of  many  pilgrims. 


A   MEMORABLE   NIGHT  149 

The  evening  is  charming,  warm  but  not  depress- 
ing; the  atmosphere  is  even  exhilarating,  and  this 
surprises  us,  since  we  are  so  far  below  the  sea 
level.  The  Doctor  says  that  it  is  exactly  like 
Colorado  on  a  July  night.  We  have  never  been 
so  low  before,  not  even  in  a  coal-mine.  We  are 
not  only  about  thirty-seven  hundred  feet  below 
Jerusalem,  we  are  over  twelve  hundred  below  the 
level  of  the  sea.  Sitting  outside  the  tent  under 
the  starlight,  we  enjoy  the  novelty  and  the  mys- 
teriousness  of  the  scene.  Tents,  horses  picketed 
among  the  bushes,  the  firelight,  the  groups  of  ser- 
vants and  drivers  taking  their  supper,  the  figure  of 
an  Arab  from  Gilgal  coming  forward  occasionally 
out  of  the  darkness,  the  singing,  the  occasional 
violent  outbreak  of  kicking  and  squealing  among 
the  ill-assorted  horses  and  mules,  the  running  of 
loose-robed  attendants  to  the  rescue  of  some  poor 
beast,  the  strong  impression  of  the  locality  upon 
us,  and  I  know  not  what  Old  Testament  flavor 
about  it  all,  conspire  to  make  the  night  memorable. 

"This  place  very  dangerous,"  says  Antonio, 
who  is  standing  round,  bursting  with  information. 
"Him  berry  wise,"  is  Abd-el-Atti's  opinion  of 
him.  "Know  a  great  deal;  I  t'ink  him  not  live 
long." 

"What  is  the  danger?  "  we  ask. 

"Wild  beasts,  wild  boars,  hyenas, — all  these 
bush  full  of  them.  It  was  three  years  now  I  was 
camped  here  with  Baron  Kronkheit.  'Bout 
twelve  o'clock  I  heard  a  noise  and  came  out. 
Right  there,  not  twenty  feet  from  here,  stood  a 


150  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

hyena  as  big  as  a  donkey,  his  two  eyes  like  fire. 
I  did  not  shoot  him  for  fear  to  wake  up  the 
Baron." 

"Did  he  kill  any  of  your  party?" 

"Not  any  man.  In  the  morning  I  find  he  has 
carried  off  our  only  mutton." 

Notwithstanding  these  dangers,  the  night  passes 
without  alarm,  except  the  barking  of  jackals  about 
the  kitchen  tent.  In  the  morning  I  ask  Antonio  if 
he  heard  the  hyenas  howling  in  the  night.  "Yes, 
indeed,  plenty  of  them;  they  came  very  near  my 
tent." 

We  are  astir  at  sunrise,  breakfast,  and  start  for 
the  Jordan.  It  is  the  opinion  of  the  dragoman 
and  the  sheykh  that  we  should  go  first  to  the  Dead 
Sea.  It  is  the  custom.  Every  tourist  goes  to  the 
Dead  Sea  first,  bathes,  and  then  washes  off  the 
salt  in  the  Jordan.  No  one  ever  thought  of  going 
to  the  Jordan  first.  It  is  impossible.  We  must 
visit  the  Dead  Sea,  and  then  lunch  at  the  Jor- 
dan. We  wished,  on  the  contrary,  to  lunch  at  the 
Dead  Sea,  at  which  we  should  otherwise  have  only 
a  very  brief  time.  We  insisted  upon  our  own 
programme,  to  the  great  disgust  of  all  our  camp 
attendants,  who  predicted  disaster. 

The  Jordan  is  an  hour  and  a  half  from  Jericho ; 
that  is  the  distance  to  the  bathing-place  of  the 
Greek  pilgrims.  We  descend  all  the  way.  Wild 
vegetation  is  never  wanting;  wild -flowers  abound; 
we  pass  through  thickets  of  thorns,  bearing  the 
yellow  "apples  of  the  Dead  Sea,"  which  grow  all 
over  this  plain.  At  Gilgal  (now  called  Kiha)  we 


MODERN   GILGAL  151 

find  what  is  probably  the  nastiest  village  in  the 
world,  and  its  miserable  inhabitants  are  credited 
with  all  the  vices  of  Sodom.  The  wretched  huts 
are  surrounded  by  a  thicket  of  nubk  as  a  protec- 
tion against  the  plundering  Bedaween.  The 
houses  are  rudely  built  of  stone,  with  a  covering 
of  cane  or  brush,  and  each  one  is  inclosed  in  a 
hedge  of  thorns.  These  thorns,  which  grow 
rankly  on  the  plain,  are  those  of  which  the  "  crown 
of  thorns"  was  plaited,  and  all  devout  pilgrims 
carry  away  some  of  them.  The  habitations  within 
these  thorny  inclosures  are  filthy  beyond  descrip- 
tion, and  poverty-stricken.  And  this  is  in  a  wa- 
tered plain  which  would  bloom  with  all  manner  of 
fruits  with  the  least  care.  Indeed,  there  are  a  few 
tangled  gardens  of  the  rankest  vegetation ;  in  them 
we  see  the  orange,  the  fig,  the  deceptive  pome- 
granate with  its  pink  blossoms,  and  the  olive.  As 
this  is  the  time  of  pilgrimage,  a  company  of  Turk- 
ish soldiers  from  Jerusalem  is  encamped  at  the 
village,  and  the  broken  country  about  it  is  covered 
with  tents,  booths,  shops,  kitchens,  and  presents 
the  appearance  of  a  fair  and  a  camp-meeting  com- 
bined. There  are  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  of 
pilgrims,  who  go  every  morning,  as  long  as  they 
remain  here,  to  dip  in  the  Jordan.  Near  the  vil- 
lage rises  the  square  tower  of  an  old  convent,  prob- 
ably, which  is  dignified  with  the  name  of  the 
"house  of  Zacchseus."  This  plain  was  once  famed 
for  its  fertility ;  it  was  covered  with  gardens  and 
palm-groves;  the  precious  balsam,  honey,  and 
henna  were  produced  here;  the  balsam  gardens 


152  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

were  the  royal  gift  of  Antony  to  Cleopatra,  who 
transferred  the  balsam  -  trees  to  Heliopolis  in 
Egypt. 

As  we  ride  away  from  Gilgal  and  come  upon  a 
more  open  and  desert  plain,  I  encounter  an  eagle 
sitting  on  the  top  of  a  thorn-tree,  not  the  noblest 
of  his  species,  but,  for  Palestine,  a  very  fair  eagle. 
Here  is  a  chance  for  the  Syrian  hunter;  he  is 
armed  with  gun  and  pistols ;  he  has  his  dogs ;  now, 
if  ever,  is  the  time  for  him  to  hunt,  and  I  fall  back 
and  point  out  his  opportunity.  He  does  not  em- 
brace it.  It  is  an  easy  shot ;  perhaps  he  is  look- 
ing for  wild  boars;  perhaps  he  is  a  tender -minded 
hunter.  At  any  rate,  he  makes  no  effort  to  take 
the  eagle,  and  when  I  ride  forward  the  bird  grace- 
fully rises  in  the  air,  sweeping  upward  in  magnifi- 
cent circles,  now  veering  towards  the  Mount  of 
Temptation,  and  now  towards  Nebo,  but  always  as 
serene  as  the  air  in  which  he  floats. 

And  now  occurs  one  of  those  incidents  which 
are  not  rare  to  travelers  in  Syria,  but  which  are 
rare  and  scarcely  believed  elsewhere.  As  the 
eagle  hangs  for  a  second  motionless  in  the  empy- 
rean far  before  me,  he  drops  a  feather.  I  see  the 
gray  plume  glance  in  the  sun  and  swirl  slowly 
down  in  the  lucid  air.  In  Judaea  every  object  is 
as  distinct  as  in  a  photograph.  You  can  see 
things  at  a  distance  you  can  make  no  one  believe 
at  home.  The  eagle  plume,  detached  from  the 
noble  bird,  begins  its  leisurely  descent. 

I  see  in  a  moment  my  opportunity.  I  might 
never  have  another.  All  travelers  in  Syria  whose 


A   STARTLING   ADVENTURE  153 

books  I  have  ever  read  have  one  or  more  startling 
adventures.  Usually  it  is  with  a  horse.  I  do  not 
remember  any  with  a  horse  and  an  eagle.  I  deter- 
mine at  once  to  have  one.  Glancing  a  moment  at 
the  company  behind  me,  and  then  fixing  my  eye 
on  the  falling  feather,  I  speak  a  word  to  my  steed, 
and  dart  forward. 

A  word  was  enough.  The  noble  animal  seemed 
to  comprehend  the  situation.  He  was  of  the  pur- 
est Arab  breed ;  four  legs,  four  white  ankles,  small 
ears,  slender  pasterns,  nostrils  thin  as  tissue  paper, 
and  dilating  upon  the  fall  of  a  leaf;  an  eye  ter- 
rible in  rage,  but  melting  in  affection;  a  round 
barrel ;  gentle  as  a  kitten,  but  spirited  as  a  game- 
cock. His  mother  was  a  Nedjed  mare  from  Me- 
dina, who  had  been  exchanged  by  a  Bedawee  chief 
for  nine  beautiful  Circassians,  but  only  as  a  com- 
promise after  a  war  by  the  Pasha  of  Egypt  for 
her  possession.  Her  father  was  one  of  the  most 
respectable  horses  in  Yemen.  Neither  father, 
mother,  nor  colt  had  ever  eaten  anything  but  se- 
lected dates. 

At  the  word,  Abdallah  springs  forward,  bound- 
ing over  the  sand,  skimming  over  the  thorn  bushes, 
scattering  the  Jordan  pilgrims  right  and  left.  He 
does  not  seem  to  be  so  much  a  horse  as  a  creation 
of  the  imagination,  —  a  Pegasus.  At  every  leap 
we  gain  upon  the  feather,  but  it  is  still  far  ahead 
of  us,  and  swirling  down,  down,  as  the  air  takes 
the  plume  or  the  weight  of  gravity  acts  upon  the 
quill.  Abdallah  does  not  yet  know  the  object  of 
our  fearful  pace,  but  his  docility  is  such  that  every 


154  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

time  I  speak  to  him  he  seems  to  shoot  out  of  him- 
self in  sudden  bursts  of  enthusiasm.  The  terrible 
strain  continues  longer  than  I  had  supposed  it 
would,  for  I  had  undercalculated  both  the  height 
at  which  the  feather  was  cast  and  my  distance  to 
the  spot  upon  which  it  must  fall.  None  but  a 
horse  fed  on  dates  could  keep  up  the  awful  gait. 
We  fly  and  the  feather  falls;  and  it  falls  with 
increasing  momentum.  It  is  going,  going  to  the 
ground,  and  we  are  not  there.  At  this  instant, 
when  I  am  in  despair,  the  feather  twirls,  and  AJb- 
dallah  suddenly  casts  his  eye  up  and  catches  the 
glint  of  it.  The  glance  suffices  to  put  him  com- 
pletely in  possession  of  the  situation.  He  gives  a 
low  neigh  of  joy;  I  plunge  both  spurs  into  his 
flanks  about  six  or  seven  inches;  he  leaps  into 
the  air,  and  sails  like  a  bird,  —  of  course  only  for 
a  moment;  but  it  is  enough;  I  stretch  out  my 
hand  and  catch  the  eagle's  plume  before  it  touches 
the  ground.  We  light  on  the  other  side  of  a  clump 
of  thorns,  and  Abdallah  walks  on  as  quietly  as 
if  nothing  had  happened ;  he  was  not  blown ;  not 
a  hair  of  his  glossy  coat  was  turned.  I  have  the 
feather  to  show. 

Pilgrims  are  plenty,  returning  from  the  river  in 
a  continuous  procession,  in  numbers  rivaling  the 
children  of  Israel  when  they  first  camped  at  Gil- 
gal.  We  descend  into  the  river-bottom,  wind 
through  the  clumps  of  tangled  bushes,  and  at 
length  reach  an  open  place  where  the  river  for  a 
few  rods  is  visible.  The  ground  is  trampled  like  a 
watering-spot  for  cattle ;  the  bushes  are  not  large 


JORDAN'S  STORMY  BANKS  155 

enough  to  give  shade;  there  are  no  trees  of  size 
except  one  or  two  at  the  water's  edge;  the  banks 
are  slimy,  there  seems  to  be  no  comfortable  place 
to  sit  except  on  your  horse  —  on  Jordan's  stormy 
banks  I  stand  and  cast  a  wistful  eye ;  the  wistful 
eye  encounters  nothing  agreeable. 

The  Jordan  here  resembles  the  Arkansas  above 
Little  Rock,  says  the  Doctor;  I  think  it  is  about 
the  size  of  the  Concord  where  it  flows  through  the 
classic  town  of  that  name  in  Massachusetts;  but 
it  is  much  swifter.  Indeed,  it  is  a  rapid  current, 
which  would  sweep  away  the  strongest  swimmer. 
The  opposite  bank  is  steep,  and  composed  of  sandy 
loam  or  marl.  The  hither  bank  is  low,  but  slip- 
pery, and  it  is  difficult  to  dip  up  water  from  it. 
Close  to  the  shore  the  water  is  shallow,  and  a  rope 
is  stretched  out  for  the  protection  of  the  bathers. 
This  is  the  Greek  bathing-place,  but  we  are  too 
late  to  see  the  pilgrims  enter  the  stream;  crowds 
of  them  are  still  here,  cutting  canes  to  carry  away, 
and  filling  their  tin  cans  with  the  holy  water.  We 
taste  the  water,  which  is  very  muddy,  and  find  it 
warm  but  not  unpleasant.  We  are  glad  that  we 
have  decided  to  lunch  at  the  Dead  Sea,  for  a  more 
uninviting  place  than  this  could  not  be  found; 
above  and  below  this  spot  are  thickets  and  boggy 
ground.  It  is  beneath  the  historical  and  religious 
dignity  of  the  occasion  to  speak  of  lunch,  but  all 
tourists  know  what  importance  it  assumes  on  such 
an  excursion,  and  that  their  high  reflections  seldom 
come  to  them  on  the  historical  spot.  Indeed,  one 
must  be  removed  some  distance  from  the  vulgar 


156  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

Jordan  before  he  can  glow  at  the  thought  of  it. 
In  swiftness  and  volume  it  exceeds  our  expecta- 
tions, but  its  beauty  is  entirely  a  creation  of  the 
imagination. 

We  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  only  a  solitary 
pilgrim  bathe.  This  was  a  shock-headed  Greek 
young  man,  who  reluctantly  ventured  into  the  dirty 
water  up  to  his  knees  and  stood  there  shivering, 
and  whimpering  over  the  orders  of  the  priest  on 
the  bank,  who  insisted  upon  his  dipping.  Perhaps 
the  boy  lacked  faith ;  perhaps  it  was  his  first  ex- 
periment with  water ;  at  any  rate,  he  stood  there 
until  his  spiritual  father  waded  in  and  ducked  the 
blubbering  and  sputtering  neophyte  under.  This 
was  not  a  baptism,  but  a  meritorious  bath.  Some 
seedy  fellahs  from  Gilgal  sat  on  the  bank  fishing. 
When  I  asked  them  if  they  had  anything,  they 
produced  from  the  corners  of  their  gowns  some 
Roman  copper  coins,  picked  up  at  Jericho,  and 
which  they  swore  were  dropped  there  by  the  Jews 
when  they  assaulted  the  city  with  the  rams'  horns. 
These  idle  fishermen  caught  now  and  then  a  rather 
soft,  light-colored  perch,  with  large  scales,  —  a 
sickly -looking  fish,  which  the  Greeks,  however, 
pronounced  "tayeb." 

We  leave  the  river  and  ride  for  an  hour  and  a 
half  across  a  nearly  level  plain,  the  earth  of  which 
shows  salts  here  and  there,  dotted  with  a  loV,  fat- 
leaved  plant,  something  like  the  American  sage- 
bush.  Wild-flowers  enliven  the  way,  and  although 
the  country  is  not  exactly  cheerful,  it  has  no  ap- 
pearance of  desolation  except  such  as  comes  from 
lack  of  water. 


THE   DEAD   SEA  157 

The  Dead  Sea  is  the  least  dead  of  any  sheet  of 
water  I  know.  When  we  first  arrived  the  waters 
were  a  lovely  blue,  which  changed  to  green  in  the 
shifting  light,  but  they  were  always  animated  and 
sparkling.  It  has  a  sloping  sandy  beach,  strewn 
with  pebbles,  up  which  the  waves  come  with  a 
pleasant  murmur.  The  plain  is  hot;  here  we  find 
a  cool  breeze.  The  lovely  plain  of  water  stretches 
away  to  the  south  between  blue  and  purple  ranges 
of  mountains,  which  thrust  occasionally  bold  prom- 
ontories into  it,  and  add  a  charm  to  the  perspec- 
tive. 

The  sea  is  not  inimical  to  either  vegetable  or 
animal  life  on  its  borders.  Before  we  reach  it  I 
hear  bird-notes  high  in  the  air  like  the  song  of  a 
lark;  birds  are  flitting  about  the  shore  and  sing- 
ing, and  gulls  are  wheeling  over  the  water;  a  rab- 
bit runs  into  his  hole  close  by  the  beach.  Growing 
close  to  the  shore  is  a  high  woody  stonewort,  with 
abundance  of  fleshy  leaves  and  thousands  of  blos- 
soms, delicate  protruding  stamens  hanging  over 
the  waters  of  the  sea  itself.  The  plant  with  the 
small  yellow  fruit,  which  we  take  to  be  that  of  the 
apples  of  Sodom,  also  grows  here.  It  is  the  Sola- 
num  spinosa,  closely  allied  to  the  potato,  egg- 
plant, and  tomato ;  it  has  a  woody  stem  with  sharp 
recurved  thorns,  sometimes  grows  ten  feet  high, 
and  is  now  covered  with  round  orange  berries. 

It  is  not  the  scene  of  desolation  that  we  expected, 
although  some  branches  and  trunks  of  trees, 
gnarled  and  bleached,  the  drift-wood  of  the  Jor- 
dan, strewn  along  the  beach,  impart  a  dead  aspect 


158  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

to  the  shore.  These  dry  branches  are,  however, 
useful;  we  build  them  up  into  a  wigwam,  over 
which  we  spread  our  blankets;  under  this  we  sit, 
sheltered  from  the  sun,  enjoying  the  delightful 
breeze  and  the  cheering  prospect  of  the  sparkling 
sea.  The  improvident  Arabs,  now  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  get  fresh  water,  begin  to  want  it ;  they 
have  exhausted  their  own  jugs  and  ours,  having 
neglected  to  bring  anything  like  an  adequate  sup- 
ply. To  see  water  and  not  be  able  to  drink  it  is 
too  much  for  their  philosophy. 

The  party  separates  along  the  shore,  seeking  for 
places  where  bushes  grow  out  upon  tongues  of  land 
and  offer  shelter  from  observation  for  the  bather. 
The  first  impression  we  have  of  the  water  is  its 
perfect  clearness.  It  is  the  most  innocent  water 
in  appearance,  and  you  would  not  suspect  its  salt- 
ness  and  extreme  bitterness.  No  fish  live  in  it; 
the  water  is  too  salt  for  anything  but  codfish.  Its 
buoyancy  has  not  been  exaggerated  by  travelers, 
but  I  did  not  expect  to  find  bathing  in  it  so  agree- 
able as  it  is.  The  water  is  of  a  happy  temperature, 
soft,  not  exactly  oily,  but  exceedingly  agreeable  to 
the  skin,  and  it  left  a  delicious  sensation  after  the 
bath ;  but  it  is  necessary  to  be  careful  not  to  get 
any  of  it  into  the  eyes.  For  myself,  I  found  swim- 
ming in  it  delightful,  and  I  wish  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  were  like  it;  nobody  then  would  ever  be 
drowned.  Floating  is  no  effort ;  on  the  contrary, 
sinking  is  impossible.  The  only  annoyance  in 
swimming  is  the  tendency  of  the  feet  to  strike  out 
of  water,  and  of  the  swimmer  to  go  over  on  his 


BATHING   IN   THE   DEAD   SEA  159 

head.  When  I  stood  upright  in  the  water  it  came 
about  to  my  shoulders ;  but  it  was  difficult  to  stand, 
from  the  constant  desire  of  the  feet  to  go  to  the 
surface.  I  suppose  that  the  different  accounts  of 
travelers  in  regard  to  the  buoyancy  of  the  water 
are  due  to  the  different  specific  gravity  of  the  writ- 
ers. We  cannot  all  be  doctors  of  divinity.  I 
found  that  the  best  way  to  float  was  to  make  a  bow 
of  the  body  and  rest  with  feet  and  head  out  of 
water,  which  was  something  like  being  in  a  cush- 
ioned chair.  Even  then  it  requires  some  care  not 
to  turn  over.  The  bather  seems  to  himself  to  be 
a  cork,  and  has  little  control  of  his  body. 

About  two  hundred  yards  from  the  shore  is  an 
artificial  island  of  stone,  upon  which  are  remains 
of  regular  masonry.  Probably  some  crusader  had 
a  castle  there.  We  notice  upon  looking  down  into 
the  clear  depths,  some  distance  out,  in  the  sun- 
light, that  the  lake  seems,  as  it  flows,  to  have 
translucent  streaks,  which  are  like  a  thick  solution 
of  sugar,  showing  how  completely  saturated  it  is 
with  salts.  It  is,  in  fact,  twelve  hundred  and 
ninety -two  feet  below  the  Mediterranean,  nothing 
but  a  deep,  half -dried-up  sea ;  the  chloride  of  mag- 
nesia, which  gives  it  its  extraordinarily  bitter 
taste,  does  not  crystallize  and  precipitate  itself  so 
readily  as  the  chloride  of  sodium. 

We  look  in  vain  for  any  evidence  of  volcanic 
disturbance  or  action  of  fire.  Whatever  there  may 
be  at  the  other  end  of  the  lake,  there  is  none  here. 
We  find  no  bitumen  or  any  fire-stones,  although 
the  black  stones  along  the  beach  may  have  been 


160  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

supposed  to  be  bituminous.  All  the  pebbles  and 
all  the  stones  of  the  beach  are  of  chalk  flint,  and 
tell  no  story  of  fire  or  volcanic  fury. 

Indeed,  the  lake  has  no  apparent  hostility  to  life. 
An  enterprising  company  could  draw  off  the  Jor- 
dan thirty  miles  above  here  and  make  all  this  val- 
ley a  garden,  producing  fruits  and  sugar-cane  and 
cotton,  and  this  lake  one  of  the  most  lovely  water- 
ing-places in  the  world.  I  have  no  doubt  mala- 
dies could  be  discovered  which  its  waters  are  ex- 
actly calculated  to  cure.  I  confidently  expect  to 
hear  some  day  that  great  hotels  are  built  upon  this 
shore,  which  are  crowded  with  the  pious,  the  fash- 
ionable, and  the  diseased.  I  seem  to  see  this  blue 
and  sunny  lake  covered  with  a  gay  multitude  of 
bathers,  floating  about  the  livelong  day  on  its  sur- 
face ;  parties  of  them  making  a  pleasure  excursion 
to  the  foot  of  Pisgah ;  groups  of  them  chatting, 
singing,  amusing  themselves  as  they  would  under 
the  shade  of  trees  on  land,  having  umbrellas  and 
floating  awnings,  and  perhaps  servants  to  bear 
their  parasols ;  couples  floating  here  and  there  at 
will  in  the  sweet  dream  of  a  love  that  seems  to  be 
suspended  between  the  heaven  and  the  earth.  No 
one  will  be  at  any  expense  for  boats,  for  every  one 
will  be  his  own  boat,  and  launch  himself  without 
sail  or  oars  whenever  he  pleases.  How  dainty  will 
be  the  little  feminine  barks  that  the  tossing  mar- 
iner will  hail  on  that  peaceful  sea  !  No  more  wail- 
ing of  wives  over  husbands  drowned  in  the  waves, 
no  more  rescuing  of  limp  girls  by  courageous  lov- 
ers. People  may  be  shipwrecked  if  there  comes  a 


A   PERILOUS   LUNCH  161 

squall  from  Moab,  but  they  cannot  be  drowned. 
I  confess  that  this  picture  is  the  most  fascinating 
that  I  have  been  able  to  conjure  up  in  Syria. 

We  take  our  lunch  under  the  wigwam,  fanned 
by  a  pleasant  breeze.  The  persons  who  partake 
it  present  a  pleasing  variety  of  nations  and  colors, 
and  the  "spread"  itself,  though  simple,  was  gath- 
ered from  many  lands.  Some  one  took  the  trouble 
to  note  the  variety :  raisins  from  Damascus,  bread, 
chicken,  and  mutton  from  Jerusalem,  white  wine 
from  Bethlehem,  figs  from  Smyrna,  cheese  from 
America,  dates  from  Nubia,  walnuts  from  Ger- 
many, water  from  Elisha's  well,  eggs  from  Hen. 

We  should  like  to  linger  till  night  in  this  en- 
chanting place,  but  for  an  hour  the  sheykh  and 
dragoman  have  been  urging  our  departure;  men 
and  beasts  are  represented  as  suffering  for  water, 
—  all  because  we  have  reversed  the  usual  order  of 
travel.  As  soon  as  we  leave  the  lake  we  lose  its 
breeze,  the  heat  becomes  severe ;  the  sandy  plain 
is  rolling  and  a  little  broken,  but  it  has  no  shade, 
no  water,  and  is  indeed  a  weary  way.  The  horses 
feel  the  want  of  water  sadly.  The  Arabs,  whom 
we  had  supposed  patient  in  deprivation,  are  almost 
crazy  with  thirst.  After  we  have  ridden  for  over 
an  hour  the  sheykh 's  horse  suddenly  wheels  off  and 
runs  over  the  plain ;  my  nag  follows  him,  appar- 
ently without  reason,  and  in  spite  of  my  efforts  I 
am  run  away  with.  The  horses  dash  along,  and 
soon  the  whole  cavalcade  is  racing  after  us.  The 
object  is  soon  visible, — a  fringe  of  trees,  which 
denotes  a  brook;  the  horses  press  on,  dash  down 


162  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

the  steep  bank,  and  plunge  their  heads  into  the 
water  up  to  the  eyes.  The  Arabs  follow  suit. 
The  sheykh  declares  that  in  fifteen  minutes  more 
both  men  and  horses  would  have  been  dead. 
Never  before  did  anybody  lunch  at  the  Dead  Sea. 

When  the  train  comes  up,  the  patient  donkey 
that  Madame  rides  is  pushed  through  the  brook 
and  not  permitted  to  wet  his  muzzle.  I  am  indig- 
nant at  such  cruelty,  and  spring  off  my  horse,  push 
the  two  donkey-boys  aside,  and  lead  the  eager  don- 
key to  the  stream.  At  once  there  is  a  cry  of  pro- 
test from  dragomans,  sheykh,  and  the  whole  crowd, 
"No  drink  donkey,  no  drink  donkey,  no  let  don- 
key, bad  for  donkey."  There  could  not  have  been 
a  greater  outcry  among  the  Jews  when  the  ark  of 
the  covenant  was  likely  to  touch  the  water.  I  de- 
sist from  my  charitable  efforts.  Why  the  poor 
beast,  whose  whole  body  craved  water  as  much  as 
that  of  the  horse,  was  denied  it,  I  know  not.  It 
is  said  that  if  you  give  a  donkey  water  on  the  road 
he  won't  go  thereafter.  Certainly  the  donkey  is 
never  permitted  to  drink  when  traveling.  I  think 
the  patient  and  chastened  creature  will  get  more  in 
the  next  world  than  his  cruel  masters. 

Nearly  all  the  way  over  the  plain  we  have  the 
long  snowy  range  of  Mt.  Hermon  in  sight,  a  noble 
object,  closing  the  long  northern  vista,  and  a  re- 
freshment to  the  eyes  wearied  by  the  parched  vege- 
tation of  the  valley  and  dazzled  by  the  aerial  shim- 
mer. If  we  turn  from  the  north  to  the  south,  we 
have  the  entirely  different  but  equally  poetical 
prospect  of  the  blue  sea  inclosed  in  the  receding 


THE   FOUNTAIN   OF   ELISHA  163 

hills,  which  fall  away  into  the  violet  shade  of  the 
horizon.  The  Jordan  Valley  is  unique ;  by  a  ge- 
ologic fault  it  is  dropped  over  a  thousand  feet 
below  the  sea-level;  it  is  guarded  by  mountain- 
ranges  which  are  from  a  thousand  to  two  thousand 
feet  high ;  at  one  end  is  a  mountain  ten  thousand 
feet  high,  from  which  the  snow  never  disappears ; 
at  the  other  end  is  a  lake  forty  miles  long,  of  the 
saltest  and  bitterest  water  in  the  world.  All  these 
contrasts  the  eye  embraces  at  one  point. 

We  dismount  at  the  camp  of  the  Russian  pil- 
grims by  Riha,  and  walk  among  the  tents  and 
booths.  The  sharpers  of  Syria  attend  the  stran- 
gers, tempt  them  with  various  holy  wares,  and 
entice  them  into  their  dirty  coffee-shops.  It  is  a 
scene  of  mingled  credulity  and  knavery,  of  devo- 
tion and  traffic.  There  are  great  booths  for  the 
sale  of  vegetables,  nuts,  and  dried  fruit.  The 
whole  may  be  sufficiently  described  as  a  camp- 
meeting  without  any  prayer-tent. 

At  sunset  I  have  a  quiet  hour  by  the  fountain 
of  Elisha.  It  is  a  remarkable  pool.  Under  the 
ledge  of  limestone  rocks  the  water  gushes  out  with 
considerable  force,  and  in  such  volume  as  to  form 
a  large  brook  which  flows  out  of  the  basin  and 
murmurs  over  a  stony  bed.  You  cannot  recover 
your  surprise  to  see  a  river  in  this  dry  country 
burst  suddenly  out  of  the  ground.  A  group  of  na- 
tive women  have  come  to  the  pool  with  jars,  and 
they  stay  to  gossip,  sitting  about  the  edge  upon  the 
stones  with  their  feet  in  the  water.  One  of  them 
wears  a  red  gown,  and  her  cheeks  are  as  red  as  her 


164  GOING  DOWN  TO  JERICHO 

dress;  indeed,  1  have  met  several  women  to-day 
who  had  the  complexion  of  a  ripe  Flemish  Beauty 
pear.  As  it  seems  to  be  the  fashion,  I  also  sit  on 
the  bank  of  the  stream  with  my  feet  in  the  warm 
swift  water,  and  enjoy  the  sunset  and  the  strange 
concourse  of  pilgrims  who  are  gathering  about  the 
well.  They  are  worthy  Greeks,  very  decent  people, 
men  and  women,  who  salute  me  pleasantly  as  they 
arrive,  and  seem  to  take  my  participation  in  the 
bath  as  an  act  of  friendship. 

Just  below  the  large  pool,  by  a  smaller  one,  a 
Greek  boy,  having  bathed,  is  about  to  dress,  and 
I  am  interested  to  watch  the  process.  The  first 
article  to  go  on  is  a  white  shirt ;  over  this  he  puts 
on  two  blue  woolen  shirts;  he  then  draws  on  a 
pair  of  large,  loose  trousers;  into  these  the  shirts 
are  tucked,  and  the  trousers  are  tied  at  the  waist, 
—  he  is  bothered  with  neither  pins  nor  buttons. 
Then  comes  the  turban,  which  is  a  soft  gray  and 
yellow  material;  a  red  belt  is  next  wound  twice 
about  the  waist;  the  vest  is  yellow  and  open  in 
front;  and  the  costume  is  completed  by  a  jaunty 
jacket  of  yellow,  prettily  embroidered.  The  heap 
of  clothes  on  the  bank  did  not  promise  much,  but 
the  result  is  a  very  handsome  boy,  dressed,  I  am 
sure,  most  comfortably  for  this  climate.  While  I 
sit  here  the  son  of  the  sheykh  rides  his  horse  to 
the  pool.  He  is  not  more  than  ten  years  old,  is 
very  smartly  dressed  in  gay  colors,  and  exceedingly 
handsome,  although  he  has  somewhat  the  supercil- 
ious manner  of  a  lad  born  in  the  purple.  The 
little  prince  speaks  French,  and  ostentatiously  dis- 


A   NATIVE   DANCE  1G5 

plays  in  his  belt  a  big  revolver.  I  am  glad  of  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  one  of  the  desert  robbers  in 
embryo. 

When  it  is  dusk  we  have  an  invasion  from  the 
neighboring  Bedaween,  an  imposition  to  which  all 
tourists  are  subjected,  it  being  taken  for  granted 
that  we  desire  to  see  a  native  dance.  This  is  one 
of  the  ways  these  honest  people  have  of  levying 
tribute ;  by  the  connivance  of  our  protectors,  the 
head  sheykhs,  the  entertainment  is  forced  upon  us, 
and  the  performers  will  not  depart  without  a  lib- 
eral backsheesh.  We  are  already  somewhat  famil- 
iar with  the  fascinating  dances  of  the  Orient,  and 
have  only  a  languid  curiosity  about  those  of  the 
Jordan ;  but  before  we  are  aware  there  is  a  crowd 
before  our  tents,  and  the  evening  is  disturbed  by 
doleful  howling  and  drum -thumping.  The  scene 
in  the  flickering  firelight  is  sufficiently  fantastic. 

The  men  dance  first.  Some  twenty  or  thirty  of 
them  form  in  a  half  circle,  standing  close  together; 
their  gowns  are  in  rags,  their  black  hair  is  tossed 
in  tangled  disorder,  and  their  eyes  shine  with  ani- 
mal wildness.  The  only  dancing  they  perform 
consists  in  a,  violent  swaying  of  the  body  from  side 
to  side  in  concert,  faster  and  faster  as  the  excite- 
ment rises,  with  an  occasional  stamping  of  the  feet, 
and  a  continual  howling  like  darwishes.  Two  vag- 
abonds step  into  the  focus  of  the  half  circle  and 
hop  about  in  the  most  stiff-legged  manner,  swing- 
ing enormous  swords  over  their  heads,  and  giving 
from  time  to  time  a  war-whoop,  —  it  seems  to  be 
precisely  the  dance  of  the  North  American  Indians. 


166  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

We  are  told,  however,  that  the  howling  is  a  song, 
and  that  the  song  relates  to  meeting  the  enemy 
and  demolishing  him.  The  longer  the  perform- 
ance goes  on  the  less  we  like  it,  for  the  uncouthness 
is  not  varied  by  a  single  graceful  motion,  and  the 
monotony  becomes  unendurable.  We  long  for  the 
women  to  begin. 

When  the  women  begin,  we  wish  we  had  the 
men  back  again.  Creatures  uglier  and  dirtier  than 
these  hags  could  not  be  found.  Their  dance  is 
much  the  same  as  that  of  the  men,  a  semicircle, 
with  a  couple  of  women  to  jump  about  and  whirl 
swords.  But  the  women  display  more  fierceness 
and  more  passion  as  they  warm  to  their  work,  and 
their  shrill  cries,  disheveled  hair,  loose  robes,  and 
frantic  gestures  give  us  new  ideas  of  the  capacity 
of  the  gentle  sex;  you  think  that  they  would  not 
only  slay  their  enemies,  but  drink  their  blood  and 
dance  upon  their  fragments.  Indeed,  one  of  their 
songs  is  altogether  belligerent;  it  taunts  the  men 
with  cowardice,  it  scoffs  them  for  not  daring  to 
fight,  it  declares  that  the  women  like  the  sword 
and  know  how  to  use  it,  —  and  thus,  and  thus,  and 
thus,  lunging  their  swords  into  the  air,  would  they 
pierce  the  imaginary  enemy.  But  these  sweet 
creatures  do  not  sing  altogether  of  war ;  they  sing 
of  love  in  the  same  strident  voices  and  fierce  man- 
ner :  "My  lover  will  meet  me  by  the  stream,  he 
will  take  me  over  the  water." 

When  the  performance  is  over  they  all  clamor 
for  backsheesh;  it  is  given  in  a  lump  to  their 
sheykh,  and  they  retire  into  the  bushes  and 


ABYSSINIANS   FROM   GONDAR  167 

wrangle  over  its  distribution.  The  women  return 
to  us  and  say,  "Why  you  give  our  backsheesh 
to  sheykh?  We  no  get  any.  Men  get  all."  It 
seems  that  women  are  animated  nowadays  by  the 
same  spirit  the  world  over:,  and  make  the  same  just 
complaints  of  the  injustice  of  men. 

When  we  turn  in,  there  is  a  light  gleaming  from 
a  cell  high  up  on  Mt.  Temptation,  where  some 
modern  pilgrim  is  playing  hermit  for  the  night. 

We  are  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  prepare 
for  the  journey  to  Jerusalem.  Near  our  camp 
some  Abyssinian  pilgrims,  Christians  so  called, 
have  encamped  in  the  bushes,  a  priest  and  three 
or  four  laymen,  the  cleverest  and  most  decent 
Abyssinians  we  have  met  with.  They  are  from 
Gondar,  and  have  been  a  year  and  a  half  on  their 
pilgrimage  from  their  country  to  the  Jordan. 
The  priest  is  severely  ill  with  a  fever,  and  his  con- 
dition excites  the  compassion  of  Abd-el-Atti,  who 
procures  for  him  a  donkey  to  ride  back  to  the  city. 
About  the  only  luggage  of  the  party  consists  of 
sacred  books,  written  on  parchment  and  preserved 
with  great  care,  among  them  the  Gospel  of  St. . 
John,  the  Psalms,  the  Pentateuch,  and  volumes 
of  prayers  to  the  Virgin.  They  are  willing  to  ex- 
change some  of  these  manuscripts  for  silver,  and 
we  make  up  besides  a  little  purse  for  the  sick  man. 
These  Abyssinian  Christians  when  at  home  live 
under  the  old  dispensation,  rather  than  the  new, 
holding  rather  to  the  law  of  Moses  than  of  Christ, 
and  practice  generally  all  the  vices  of  all  ages; 
the  colony  of  them  at  Jerusalem  is  a  disreputable 


168  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

lot  of  lewd  beggars;  so  that  we  are  glad  to  find 
some  of  the  race  who  have  gentle  manners  and  are 
outwardly  respectable.  To  be  sure,  we  had  come 
a  greater  distance  than  they  to  the  Jordan,  but 
they  had  been  much  longer  on  the  way. 

The  day  is  very  hot ;  the  intense  sun  beats  upon 
the  white  limestone  rocks  and  is  reflected  into  the 
valleys.  Our  view  in  returning  is  better  than  it 
was  in  coming;  the  plain  and  the  foot  of  the  pass 
are  covered  with  a  bloom  of  lilac-colored  flowers. 
We  meet  and  pass  more  pilgrims  than  before. 
We  overtake  them  resting  or  asleep  by  the  road- 
side, in  the  shade  of  the  rocks.  They  all  carry 
bundles  of  sticks  and  canes  cut  on  the  banks  of 
the  Jordan,  and  most  of  them  Jordan  water  in 
cans,  bottles,  and  pitchers.  There  are  motley 
loads  of  baggage,  kitchen  utensils,  beds,  children. 
We  see  again  two,  three,  and  four  on  one  horse 
or  mule,  and  now  and  then  a  row,  as  if  on  a 
bench,  across  the  horse's  back,  taking  up  the  whole 
road. 

We  overtake  one  old  woman,  a  Russian,  who 
cannot  be  less  than  seventy,  with  a  round  body, 
and  legs  as  short  as  ducks'  and  as  big  as  the 
"limbs"  of  a  piano.  Her  big  feet  are  incased  in 
straw  shoes,  the  shape  of  a  long  vegetable-dish. 
She  wears  a  short  calico  gown,  an  old  cotton  hand- 
kerchief inwraps  her  gray  head,  she  carries  on  her 
back  a  big  bundle  of  clothing,  an  extra  pair  of 
straw  shoes,  a  coffee-pot,  and  a  saucepan,  and  she 
staggers  under  a  great  bundle  of  canes  on  her 
shoulder.  Poor  old  pilgrim!  I  should  like  to 


A   NOBLE   8HETKH  169 

give  the  old  mother  my  horse  and  ease  her  way  to 
the  heavenly  city ;  but  I  reflect  that  this  would  de- 
tract from  the  merit  of  her  pilgrimage.  There  are 
men  also  as  old  hobbling  along,  but  usually  not  so 
heavily  laden.  One  ancient  couple  are  riding  in 
the  deep  flaps  of  a  pannier,  hanging  each  side  of 
a  mule;  they  can  just  see  each  other  across  the 
mule's  back,  but  the  swaying,  sickening  motion  of 
the  pannier  evidently  lessens  their  interest  in  life 
and  in  each  other. 

Our  Syrian  allies  are  as  brave  as  usual.  The 
Soudan  babies  did  not  go  to  the  Jordan  or  the 
Dead  Sea,  and  are  consequently  fresh  and  full  of 
antics.  The  Syrian  armament  has  not  thus  far 
been  used ;  eagles,  rabbits,  small  game  of  all  sorts, 
have  been  disregarded ;  neither  of  the  men  has  un- 
slung  his  gun  or  drawn  his  revolvers.  The  hunt- 
ing dogs  have  not  once  been  called  on  to  hunt  any- 
thing, and  now  they  are  so  exhausted  by  the  heat 
that  their  master  is  obliged  to  carry  them  all  the 
way  to  Jerusalem ;  one  of  the  hounds  he  has  in  his 
arms  and  the  other  is  slung  in  a  pannier  under  the 
saddle,  his  master's  foot  resting  in  the  other  side 
to  balance  the  dog.  The  poor  creature  looks  out 
piteously  from  his  swinging  cradle.  It  is  the 
most  inglorious  hunting-expedition  I  have  ever 
been  attached  to. 

Our  sheykh  becomes  more  and  more  friendly. 
He  rides  up  to  me  occasionally,  and,  nobly  strik- 
ing his  breast,  exclaims,  "Me  !  sheykh,  Jordan, 
Jerusalem,  Mar  Saba,  Hebron,  all  round;  me, 
big."  Sometimes  he  ends  the  interview  with  a 


170  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

demand  for  tobacco,  and  again  with  a  hint  of  the 
backsheesh  he  expects  in  Jerusalem.  I  want  to 
tell  him  that  he  is  exactly  like  our  stately  red  man 
at  home,  with  his  "Me!  Big  Injun.  Chaw-to- 
bac?" 

We  are  very  glad  to  get  out  of  the  heat  at  noon 
and  take  shelter  in  the  rock  grotto  at  the  Red 
Khan.  We  sit  here  as  if  in  a  box  at  the  theatre, 
and  survey  the  passing  show.  The  Syro-Phreni- 
cian  woman  smokes  her  narghileh  again,  the  dogs 
crouching  at  her  feet,  and  the  Soudan  babies  are 
pretending  to  wait  on  her,  and  tumbling  over  each 
other  and  spilling  everything  they  attempt  to  carry. 
The  woman  says  they  are  great  plagues  to  her,  and 
cost  thirty  napoleons  each  in  Soudan.  As  we  sit 
here  after  lunch,  an  endless  procession  passes  be- 
fore us,  —  donkeys,  horses,  camels  in  long  strings 
tied  together,  and  pilgrims  of  all  grades;  and  as 
they  come  up  the  hill  one  after  the  other,  showing 
their  heads  suddenly,  it  is  just  as  if  they  appeared 
on  the  stage ;  and  they  all  —  Bedaween,  Negroes, 
Russians,  Copts,  Circassians,  Greeks,  Soudan 
slaves,  and  Arab  masters  —  seem  struck  with  a 
"glad  surprise "  upon  seeing  us,  and  tarry  long 
enough  for  us  to  examine  them. 

Suddenly  presents  himself  a  tall,  gayly  dressed, 
slim  fellow  from  Soudan  (the  slave  of  the  sheykh), 
showing  his  white  teeth,  and  his  face  beaming 
with  good-nature.  He  is  so  peculiarly  black  that 
we  ask  him  to  step  forward  for  closer  inspection. 
Abd-el-Atti,  who  expresses  great  admiration  for 
him,  gets  a  coal  from  the  fire,  and  holds  it  up  by 


A   DIGNIFIED   GALGAM  171 

his  cheek ;  the  skin  has  the  advantage  of  the  coal, 
not  only  in  lustre  but  in  depth  of  blackness.  He 
says  that  he  is  a  Galgam,  a  tribe  whose  virtues 
Abd-el-Atti  indorses:  "Thim  very  sincere,  trusty, 
thim  good  breed." 

When  we  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
Galgam  in  this  thorough  manner,  he  asks  for  back- 
sheesh.  The  Doctor  offers  him  a  copper  coin. 
This,  without  any  offense  in  his  manner,  and 
with  the  utmost  courtesy,  he  refuses,  bows  very 
low,  says  "Thanks,"  with  a  little  irony,  and  turns 
away.  In  a  few  moments  he  comes  back,  opens 
his  wallet,  takes  out  two  silver  franc  pieces,  hands 
them  to  the  Doctor,  says  with  a  proud  politeness, 
"Backsheesh,  Bedawee!"  bows,  runs  across  the 
hill,  catches  his  horse,  and  rides  gallantly  away. 
It  is  beautifully  done.  Once  or  twice  during  the 
ride  to  Jerusalem  we  see  him  careering  over  the 
hills,  and  he  approaches  within  hail  at  Bethany, 
but  he  does  not  lower  his  dignity  by  joining  us 
again. 

The  heat  is  intense  until  we  reach  the  well  within 
a  mile  of  Bethany,  where  we  find  a  great  concourse 
of  exhausted  pilgrims.  On  the  way,  wherever  there 
is  an  open  field  that  admits  of  it,  we  have  some  dis- 
play of  Bedawee  horsemanship.  The  white  Arab 
mare  which  the  sheykh  rides  is  of  pure  blood  and 
cost  him  £200,  although  I  should  select  her  as  a 
broken-down  stage-horse.  These  people  ride  "all 
abroad,"  so  to  say,  arms,  legs,  accoutrements  fly- 
ing; but  they  stick  on,  which  is  the  principal  thing ; 
and  the  horses  over  the  rough  ground,  soft  fields, 


172  GOING   DOWN   TO   JERICHO 

and  loose  stones,  run,  stop  short,  wheel  in  a  flash, 
and  exhibit  wonderful  training  and  bottom. 

The  high  opinion  we  had  formed  of  the  proud 
spirit  and  generosity  of  the  Bedawee,  by  the  inci- 
dent at  the  Red  Khan,  was  not  to  be  maintained 
after  our  return  to  Jerusalem.  Another  of  our 
Oriental  illusions  was  to  be  destroyed  forever. 
The  cool  acceptance  by  the  Doctor  of  the  two 
francs  so  loftily  tendered,  as  a  specimen  of  Beda- 
wee backsheesh,  was  probably  unexpected,  and 
perhaps  unprovided  for  by  adequate  financial  ar- 
rangements on  the  part  of  the  Galgam.  At  any 
rate,  that  evening  he  was  hovering  about  the  hotel, 
endeavoring  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  Doctor, 
and  evidently  unwilling  to  believe  that  there  could 
exist  in  the  heart  of  the  howadji  the  mean  inten- 
tion of  retaining  those  francs.  The  next  morning 
he  sent  a  friend  to  the  Doctor  to  ask  him  for  the 
money.  The  Doctor  replied  that  he  should  never 
think  of  returning  a  gift,  especially  one  made  with 
so  much  courtesy ;  that,  indeed,  the  amount  of  the 
money  was  naught,  but  that  he  should  keep  it  as 
a  souvenir  of  the  noble  generosity  of  his  Bedawee 
friend.  This  sort  of  sentiment  seemed  inexplicable 
to  the  Oriental  mind.  The  son  of  the  desert  was 
as  much  astonished  that  the  Frank  should  retain 
his  gift,  as  the  Spanish  gentleman  who  presents  his 
horse  to  his  guest  would  be  if  the  guest  should 
take  it.  The  offer  of  a  present  in  the  East  is  a 
flowery  expression  of  a  sentiment  that  does  not 
exist,  and  its  acceptance  necessarily  implies  a  re- 
turn of  something  of  greater  value.  After  another 


BEDAWEE   BACKSHEESH  173 

day  of  anxiety  the  proud  and  handsome  slave  came 
in  person  and  begged  for  the  francs  until  he  re- 
ceived them.  He  was  no  better  than  his  master, 
the  noble  sheykh,  who  waylaid  us  during  the  re- 
mainder of  our  stay  for  additional  sixpences  in 
backsheesh.  O  superb  Bedawee,  we  did  not  be- 
grudge the  money,  but  our  lost  ideal! 


VI 


BETHLEHEM  AND  MAR  SABA 

ETHLEHEM  lies  about  seven  miles 
south  of  Jerusalem.  It  is  also  a  hill 
village,  reposing  upon  a  stony  promon- 
tory that  is  thrust  out  eastward  from 
the  central  mountain -range ;  the  abrupt  slopes  below 
three  sides  of  it  are  terraced ;  on  the  north  is  a 
valley  which  lies  in  a  direct  line  between  it  and 
Jerusalem;  on  the  east  are  the  yawning  ravines 
and  the  "wilderness"  leading  to  the  Dead  Sea; 
on  the  south  is  the  wild  country  towards  Hebron, 
and  the  sharp  summit  of  the  Frank  mountain  in 
the  distance.  The  village  lies  on  the  ridge ;  and 
on  the  point  at  the  east  end  of  it,  overlooking  a 
vast  extent  of  seamed  and  rocky  and  jagged  coun- 
try, is  the  gloomy  pile  of  convents,  chapels,  and 
churches  that  mark  the  spot  of  the  Nativity. 

From  its  earliest  mention  till  now  the  home  of 
shepherds  and  of  hardy  cultivators  of  its  rocky 
hillsides,  it  has  been  noted  for  the  free  spirit  and 
turbulence  of  its  inhabitants.  The  primal  charac- 
ter of  a  place  seems  to  have  the  power  of  perpetu- 
ating itself  in  all  changes.  Bethlehem  never  seems 
to  have  been  afflicted  with  servility.  During  the 


BETHLEHEM  175 

period  of  David's  hiding  in  the  Cave  Adullam  the 
warlike  Philistines  occupied  it,  but  David  was  a 
fit  representative  of  the  pluck  and  steadfastness  of 
its  people.  Since  the  Christian  era  it  has  been  a 
Christian  town,  as  it  is  to-day,  and  the  few  Mos- 
lems who  have  settled  there,  from  time  to  time, 
have  found  it  more  prudent  to  withdraw  than  to 
brave  its  hostility.  Its  women  incline  to  be  hand- 
some, and  have  rather  European  than  Oriental  fea- 
tures, and  they  enjoy  the  reputation  of  unusual 
virtue ;  the  men  are  industrious,  and  seem  to  have 
more  self-respect  than  the  Syrians  generally. 

Bethlehem  is  to  all  the  world  one  of  the  sweet- 
est of  words.  A  tender  and  romantic  interest  is 
thrown  about  it  as  the  burial-place  of  Kachel,  as 
the  scene  of  Ruth's  primitive  story,  and  of  David's 
boyhood  and  kingly  consecration ;  so  that  no  other 
place  in  Judaea,  by  its  associations,  was  so  fit  to  be 
the  gate  through  which  the  Divine  Child  should 
come  into  the  world.  And  the  traveler  to-day 
can  visit  it  with,  perhaps,  less  shock  to  his  feelings 
of  reverence,  certainly  with  a  purer  and  simpler 
enjoyment,  than  any  other  place  in  Holy  Land. 
He  finds  its  ruggedness  and  desolateness  pictur- 
esque, in  the  light  of  old  song  and  story,  and  even 
the  puerile  inventions  of  monkish  credulity  do  not 
affect  him  as  elsewhere. 

From  Jerusalem  we  reach  Bethlehem  by  follow- 
ing a  curving  ridge,  —  a  lovely  upland  ride,  on 
account  of  the  extensive  prospect  and  the  breeze, 
and  because  it  is  always  a  relief  to  get  out  of  the 
city.  The  country  is,  however,  as  stony  as  the 


176  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR    SABA 

worst  portions  of  New  England,  —  the  mountain 
sheep-pastures;  thick,  double  stone-walls  inclos- 
ing small  fields  do  not  begin  to  exhaust  the  stones. 
On  both  sides  of  the  ridge  are  bare,  unproductive 
hills,  but  the  sides  of  the  valleys  are  terraced,  and 
covered  with  a  good  growth  of  olive-trees.  These 
hollows  were  no  doubt  once  very  fruitful  by  as- 
siduous cultivation,  in  spite  of  the  stones.  Beth- 
lehem, as  we  saw  it  across  a  deep  ravine,  was  like 
a  castle  on  a  hill ;  there  is  nowhere  level  ground 
enough  for  a  table  to  stand,  off  the  ridges,  and  we 
looked  in  vain  for  the  "plains  of  Bethlehem  "  about 
which  we  had  tried,  trustfully,  to  sing  in  youth. 

Within  a  mile  of  Bethlehem  gate  we  came  to 
the  tomb  of  Rachel,  standing  close  by  the  high- 
way. "And  Rachel  died,  and  was  buried  in  the 
way  to  Ephrath,  which  is  Beth-lehem.  And  Jacob 
set  a  pillar  upon  her  grave :  that  is  the  pillar  of 
Rachel's  grave  unto  this  day."  This  is  the  testi- 
mony of  the  author  of  Genesis,  who  had  not  seen 
the  pillar  which  remained  to  his  day,  but  repeated 
the  tradition  of  the  sons  of  Jacob.  What  remained 
of  this  pillar,  after  the  absence  of  the  Israelites  for 
some  five  centuries  from  Bethlehem,  is  uncertain ; 
but  it  may  be  supposed  that  some  spot  near  Beth- 
lehem was  identified  as  the  tomb  of  Rachel  upon 
their  return,  and  that  the  present  site  is  the  one 
then  selected.  It  is  possible,  of  course,  that  the 
tradition  of  the  pagan  Canaanites  may  have  pre- 
served the  recollection  of  the  precise  spot.  At  any 
rate,  Christians  seem  to  agree  that  this  is  one  of 
the  few  ancient  sites  in  Judaea  which  are  authentic, 


Bethlehem 


THE   TOMB   OF   RACHEL  177 

and  the  Moslems  pay  it  equal  veneration.  The 
square,  unpretentious  building  erected  over  it  is  of 
modern  construction,  and  the  pilgrim  has  to  con- 
tent himself  with  looking  at  a  sort  of  Moslem  tomb 
inside,  and  reflecting,  if  he  can,  upon  the  pathetic 
story  of  the  death  of  the  mother  of  Joseph. 

There  is,  alas !  everywhere  in  Judaea  something 
to  drive  away  sentiment  as  well  as  pious  feeling. 
The  tomb  of  Rachel  is  now  surrounded  by  a  Mos- 
lem cemetery,  and  as  we  happened  to  be  there  on 
Thursday  we  found  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  a 
great  gathering  of  women,  who  had  come  there, 
according  to  their  weekly  custom,  to  weep  and  to 
wail. 

You  would  not  see  in  farthest  Nubia  a  more  bar- 
barous assemblage,  and  not  so  fierce  an  one.  In 
the  presence  of  these  wild  mourners  the  term  "gen- 
tler sex  "has  a  ludicrous  sound.  Yet  we  ought 
not  to  forget  that  we  were  intruders  upon  their 
periodic  grief,  attracted  to  their  religious  demon- 
stration merely  by  curiosity,  and  fairly  entitled  to 
nothing  but  scowls  and  signs  of  aversion.  I  am 
sure  that  we  should  give  bold  Moslem  intruders 
upon  our  hours  of  sorrow  at  home  no  better  recep- 
tion. The  women  were  in  the  usual  Syrian  cos- 
tume ;  their  loose  gowns  gaped  open  at  the  bosom, 
and  they  were  without  veils,  and  made  no  pretense 
of  drawing  a  shawl  before  their  faces;  all  wore 
necklaces  of  coins,  and  many  of  them  had  circlets 
of  coins  on  the  head,  with  strips  depending  from 
them,  also  stiff  with  silver  pieces.  A  woman's 
worth  was  thus  easily  to  be  reckoned,  for  her  entire 


178  BETHLEHEM  AND   MAR   SABA 

fortune  was  on  her  head.  A  pretty  face  was  here 
and  there  to  be  seen,  but  most  of  them  were  flar- 
ingly  ugly,  and  —  to  liken  them  to  what  they  most 
resembled  —  physically  and  mentally  the  type  of 
the  North  American  squaws.  They  were  accom- 
panied by  all  their  children,  and  the  little  brats 
were  tumbling  about  the  tombs,  and  learning  the 
language  of  woe. 

Among  the  hundreds  of  women  present,  the  ex- 
pression of  grief  took  two  forms,  —  one  active,  the 
other  more  resigned.  A  group  seated  itself  about 
a  tomb,  and  the  members  swayed  their  bodies  to 
and  fro,  howled  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  and  pre- 
tended to  weep.  I  had  the  infidel  curiosity  to  go 
from  group  to  group  in  search  of  a  tear,  but  I  did 
not  see  one.  Occasionally  some  interruption,  like 
the  arrival  of  a  new  mourner,  would  cause  the 
swaying  and  howling  to  cease  for  a  moment,  or  it 
would  now  and  then  be  temporarily  left  to  the 
woman  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  but  presently  all 
would  fall  to  again  and  abandon  themselves  to  the 
luxury  of  agony.  It  was  perhaps  unreasonable  to 
expect  tears  from  creatures  so  withered  as  most 
of  these  were ;  but  they  worked  themselves  into  a 
frenzy  of  excitement,  they  rolled  up  their  blue 
checked  cotton  handkerchiefs,  drew  them  across 
their  eyes,  and  then  wrung  them  out  with  gestures 
of  despair.  It  was  the  dryest  grief  I  ever  saw. 

The  more  active  mourners  formed  a  ring  in  a 
clear  spot.  Some  thirty  women  standing  with  their 
faces  toward  the  centre,  their  hands  on  each  other's 
shoulders,  circled  round  with  unrhythmic  steps, 


MOSLEM   MOURNERS  179 

crying  and  singing,  and  occasionally  jumping  up 
and  down  with  all  their  energy,  like  the  dancers 
of  Horace,  "striking  the  ground  with  equal  feet," 
coming  down  upon  the  earth  with  a  heavy  thud,  at 
the  same  time  slapping  their  faces  with  their  hands ; 
then  circling  around  again  with  faster  steps,  and 
shriller  cries,  and  more  prolonged  ululations,  and 
anon  pausing  to  jump  and  beat  the  ground  with  a 
violence  sufficient  to  shatter  their  frames.  The 
loose  flowing  robes,  the  clinking  of  the  silver  orna- 
ments, the  wild  gleam  of  their  eyes,  the  Bacchantic 
madness  of  their  saltations,  the  shrill  shrieking 
and  wailing,  conspired  to  give  their  demonstration 
an  indescribable  barbarity.  This  scene  has  re- 
curred every  Thursday  for,  I  suppose,  hundreds  of 
years,  within  a  mile  of  the  birthplace  of  Jesus. 

Bethlehem  at  a  little  distance  presents  an  ap- 
pearance that  its  interior  does  not  maintain;  but 
it  is  so  much  better  than  most  Syrian  villages  of 
its  size  (it  has  a  population  of  about  three  thou- 
sand), and  is  so  much  cleaner  than  Jerusalem,  that 
we  are  content  with  its  ancient  though  common- 
place aspect.  But  the  atmosphere  of  the  town  is 
thoroughly  commercial,  or  perhaps  I  should  say 
industrial ;  you  do  not  find  in  it  that  rural  and  re- 
poseful air  which  you  associate  with  the  birthplace 
of  our  Lord.  The  people  are  sharp,  to  a  woman, 
and  have  a  keen  eye  for  the  purse  of  the  stranger. 
Every  other  house  is  a  shop  for  the  manufacture 
or  sale  of  some  of  the  Bethlehem  specialties,  — 
carvings  in  olive-wood  and  ivory  and  mother-of- 
pearl,  crosses  and  crucifixes,  and  models  of  the 


180  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR   SABA 

Holy  Sepulchre,  and  every  sort  of  sacred  trinket, 
and  beads  in  endless  variety ;  a  little  is  done  also 
in  silver-work,  especially  in  rings.  One  may 
chance  upon  a  Mecca  ring  there ;  but  the  ring  pe- 
culiar to  Bethlehem  is  a  silver  wedding-ring;  it  is 
a  broad  and  cingular  band  of  silver  with  pendants, 
and  is  worn  upon  the  thumb.  As  soon  as  we  come 
into  the  town,  we  are  beset  with  sellers  of  various 
wares,  and  we  never  escape  them  except  when  we 
are  in  the  convent. 

The  Latin  convent  opens  its  doors  to  tourists ; 
it  is  a  hospitable  house,  and  the  monks  are  very 
civil;  they  let  us  sit  in  a  salle-a-manger,  while 
waiting  for  dinner,  that  was  as  damp  and  chill  as 
a  dungeon,  and  they  gave  us  a  well-intended  but 
uneatable  meal,  and  the  most  peculiar  wine,  all  at 
a  good  price.  The  wine,  white  and  red,  was  made 
by  the  monks,  they  said  with  some  pride ;  we  tried 
both  kinds,  and  I  can  recommend  it  to  the  Ameri- 
can Temperance  Union :  if  it  can  be  introduced  to 
the  public,  the  public  will  embrace  total  abstinence 
with  enthusiasm. 

While  we  were  waiting  for  the  proper  hour  to 
visit  the  crypt  of  the  Nativity,  we  went  out  upon 
the  esplanade  before  the  convent,  and  looked  down 
into  the  terraced  ravines  which  are  endeared  to  us 
by  so  many  associations.  Somewhere  down  there 
is  the  patch  of  ground  that  the  mighty  man  of 
wealth,  Boaz,  owned,  in  which  sweet  Ruth  went 
gleaning  in  the  barley-harvest.  What  a  picture 
of  a  primitive  time  it  is,  — -  the  noonday  meal  of 
Boaz  and  his  handmaidens,  Ruth  invited  to  join 


THE   FIELD   OF   BOAZ  181 

them,  and  dip  her  morsel  in  the  vinegar  with  the 
rest,  and  the  hospitable  Boaz  handing  her  parched 
corn.  We  can  understand  why  Ruth  had  good 
gleaning  over  this  stony  ground,  after  the  rakes  of 
the  handmaidens.  We  know  that  her  dress  did  not 
differ  from  that  worn  by  Oriental  women  now ;  for 
her  "veil,"  which  Boaz  filled  with  six  measures  of 
barley,  was  the  head-shawl  still  almost  universally 
worn,  —  though  not  by  the  Bethlehemite  women. 
Their  head-dress  is  peculiar ;  there  seems  to  be  on 
top  of  the  head  a  square  frame,  and  over  this  is 
thrown  and  folded  a  piece  of  white  cloth.  The 
women  are  thus  in  a  manner  crowned,  and  the 
dress  is  as  becoming  as  the  somewhat  similar  head- 
covering  of  the  Roman  peasants.  We  learn  also 
in  the  story  of  Ruth  that  the  mother-in-law  in  her 
day  was  as  wise  in  the  ways  of  men  as  she  is  now. 
"Sit  still,  my  daughter,"  she  counseled  her  after 
she  returned  with  the  veil  full  of  barley,  "until 
thou  know  how  the  matter  will  fall,  for  the  man 
will  not  be  in  rest  until  he  have  finished  the  thing 
this  day." 

Down  there,  somewhere  in  that  wilderness  of 
ravines,  David,  the  great-grandson  of  Ruth,  kept 
his  father's  sheep  before  he  went  to  the  combat 
with  Goliath.  It  was  there  —  the  grotto  is  shown 
a  little  more  than  a  mile  from  this  convent  —  that 
the  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night  when 
the  angel  appeared  and  announced  the  birth  of 
the  Messiah,  the  Son  of  David.  We  have  here 
within  the  grasp  of  the  eye  almost  the  beginning 
and  the  end  of  the  old  dispensation,  from  the  bur- 


182  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR   SABA 

ial  of  Rachel  to  the  birth  of  our  Lord,  from  the 
passing  of  the  wandering  sheykh,  Jacob,  with  his 
family,  to  the  end  put  to  the  exclusive  pretensions 
of  his  descendants  by  the  coming  of  a  Saviour  to 
all  the  world. 

The  cave  called  the  Grotto  of  the  Nativity  has 
great  antiquity.  The  hand-book  says  it  had  this 
repute  as  early  as  the  second  century.  In  the  year 
327  the  mother  of  Constantino  built  a  church  over 
it,  and  this  basilica  still  stands,  and  is  the  oldest 
specimen  of  Christian  architecture  in  existence, 
except  perhaps  the  lower  church  of  St.  Clement 
at  Rome.  It  is  the  oldest  basilica  above  ground 
retaining  its  perfect  ancient  form.  The  main  part 
of  the  church  consists  of  a  nave  and  four  aisles, 
separated  by  four  rows  of  Corinthian  marble  col- 
umns, tradition  says,  taken  from  the  temple  of  Sol- 
omon. The  walls  were  once  adorned  with  mosaics, 
but  only  fragments  of  them  remain;  the  roof  is 
decayed  and  leaky,  the  pavement  is  broken.  This 
part  of  the  church  is  wholly  neglected,  because  it 
belongs  to  the  several  sects  in  common,  and  is 
merely  the  arena  for  an  occasional  fight.  The 
choir  is  separated  from  the  nave  by  a  wall,  and  is 
divided  into  two  chapels,  one  of  the  Greeks,  the 
other  of  the  Armenians.  The  Grotto  of  the  Nativ- 
ity is  underneath  these  chapels,  and  each  sect  has 
a  separate  staircase  of  descent  to  it.  The  Latin 
chapel  is  on  the  north  side  of  this  choir,  and  it 
also  has  a  stairway  to  the  subterranean  apartments. 

Making  an  effort  to  believe  that  the  stable  of 
the  inn  in  which  Christ  was  born  was  a  small  sub- 


THE  GROTTO  OF  THE  NATIVITY     183 

terranean  cave  cut  in  the  solid  rock,  we  descended 
a  winding  flight  of  stairs  from  the  Latin  chapel, 
with  a  monk  for  our  guide,  and  entered  a  labyrinth 
from  which  we  did  not  emerge  until  we  reached  the 
place  of  the  nativity,  and  ascended  into  the  Greek 
chapel  above  it.  We  walked  between  glistening 
walls  of  rock,  illuminated  by  oil-lamps  here  and 
there,  and  in  our  exploration  of  the  gloomy  pas- 
sages and  chambers,  encountered  shrines,  pictures, 
and  tombs  of  the  sainted.  We  saw,  or  were  told 
that  we  saw,  the  spot  to  which  St.  Joseph  retired 
at  the  moment  of  the  nativity,  and  also  the  place 
where  the  twenty  thousand  children  who  were 
murdered  by  the  order  of  Herod  —  a  ghastly  sub- 
ject so  well  improved  by  the  painters  of  the  Re- 
naissance —  are  buried.  But  there  was  one  cham- 
ber, or  rather  vault,  that  we  entered  with  genuine 
emotion.  This  was  the  cell  of  Jerome,  hermit 
and  scholar,  whose  writings  have  gained  him  the 
title  of  Father  of  the  Church. 

At  the  close  of  the  fourth  century  Bethlehem 
was  chiefly  famous  as  the  retreat  of  this  holy  stu- 
dent, and  the  fame  of  his  learning  and  sanctity 
drew  to  it  from  distant  lands  many  faithful 
women,  who  renounced  the  world  and  its  plea- 
sures, and  were  content  to  sit  at  his  feet  and  learn 
the  way  of  life.  Among  those  who  resigned,  and, 
for  his  sake  and  the  cross,  despised,  the  allure- 
ments and  honors  of  the  Roman  world,  was  the 
devout  Paula,  a  Roman  matron  who  traced  her 
origin  from  Agamemnon,  and  numbered  the  Sci- 
pios  and  Gracchi  among  her  ancestors,  while  her 


184  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR   SABA 

husband,  Joxotius,  deduced  a  no  less  royal  lineage 
from  ^3Eneas.  Her  wealth  was  sufficient  to  sup- 
port the  dignity  of  such  a  descent ;  among  her  pos- 
sessions, an  item  in  her  rent-roll,  was  the  city  of 
Nicopolis,  which  Augustus  built  as  a  monument 
of  the  victory  of  Actium.  By  the  advice  and  in 
the  company  of  Jerome,  her  spiritual  guide,  she 
abandoned  Rome  and  all  her  vast  estates,  and  even 
her  infant  son,  and  retired  to  the  holy  village  of 
Bethlehem.  The  great  Jerome,  who  wrote  her  bi- 
ography, and  transmitted  the  story  of  her  virtues 
to  the  most  distant  ages,  bestowed  upon  her  the 
singular  title  of  the  Mother-in-law  of  God!  She 
was  buried  here,  and  we  look  upon  her  tomb  with 
scarcely  less  interest  than  that  of  Jerome  himself, 
who  also  rests  in  this  thrice  holy  ground.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  when  the  Goths 
sacked  Rome,  a  crowd  of  the  noble  and  the  rich, 
escaping  with  nothing  saved  from  the  wreck  but 
life  and  honor,  attracted  also  by  the  reputation  of 
Jerome,  appeared  as  beggars  in  the  streets  of  this 
humble  village.  No  doubt  they  thronged  to  the 
cell  of  the  venerable  father. 

There  is,  I  suppose,  no  doubt  that  this  is  the 
study  in  which  he  composed  many  of  his  more  im- 
portant treatises.  It  is  a  vaulted  chamber,  about 
twenty  feet  square  by  nine  feet  high.  There  is  in 
Venice  a  picture  of  the  study  of  Jerome,  painted 
by  Carpaccio,  which  represents  a  delightful  apart- 
ment; the  saint  is  seen  in  his  study,  in  a  rich  ne- 
glige robe ;  at  the  side  of  his  desk  are  musical  in- 
struments, music-stands,  and  sheets  of  music,  as  if 


THE   PLACE   OF   PLACES  185 

he  were  accustomed  to  give  soirees  ;  on  the  chim- 
ney-piece are  Greek  vases  and  other  objects  of 
virtu,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  room  is  a  poodle- 
dog  of  the  most  worldly  and  useless  of  the  canine 
breed.  The  artist  should  have  seen  the  real  study 
of  the  hermit,  —  a  grim,  unornamented  vault,  in 
which  he  passed  his  days  in  mortifications  of  the 
body,  hearing  always  ringing  in  his  ears,  in  his 
disordered  mental  and  physical  condition,  the  last 
trump  of  judgment. 

We  passed,  groping  our  way  along  in  this  reli- 
gious cellar,  through  a  winding,  narrow  passage  in 
the  rock,  some  twenty -five  feet  long,  and  came  into 
the  place  of  places,  the  very  Chapel  of  the  Na- 
tivity. In  this  low  vault,  thirty-eight  feet  long 
and  eleven  feet  wide,  hewn  in  the  rock,  is  an  altar 
at  one  end.  Before  this  altar  —  and  we  can  see 
everything  with  distinctness,  for  sixceen  silver 
lamps  are  burning  about  it  —  there  is  a  marble 
slab  in  the  pavement  into  which  is  let  a  silver  star, 
with  this  sentence  round  it :  Hie  de  Virgine  Maria 
Jesus  Christus  natus  est.  The  guardian  of  this 
sacred  spot  was  a  Turkish  soldier,  who  stood  there 
with  his  gun  and  fixed  bayonet,  an  attitude  which 
experience  has  taught  him  is  necessary  to  keep  the 
peace  among  the  Christians  who  meet  here.  The 
altar  is  without  furniture,  and  is  draped  by  each 
sect  which  uses  it  in  turn.  Near  by  is  the  chapel 
of  the  "manger,"  but  the  manger  in  which  Christ 
was  laid  is  in  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore 
in  Rome. 

There    is  in   Bethlehem   another   ancient   cave 


186  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR   SABA 

which  is  almost  as  famous  as  that  of  the  Nativity ; 
it  is  called  the  Milk  Grotto,  and  during  all  ages  of 
the  Church  a  most  marvelous  virtue  has  attached 
to  it;  fragments  of  the  stone  have  been,  and  still 
continue  to  be,  broken  off  and  sent  into  all  Chris- 
tian countries;  women  also  make  pilgrimages  to  it 
in  faith.  The  grotto  is  on  the  edge  of  the  town 
overlooking  the  eastern  ravines,  and  is  arranged 
as  a  show-place.  In  our  walk  thither  a  stately 
Bedawee,  as  by  accident,  fell  into  our  company, 
and  acted  as  our  cicerone.  He  was  desirous  that 
we  should  know  that  he  also  was  a  man  of  the 
world  and  of  travel,  and  rated  at  its  proper  value 
this  little  corner  of  the  earth.  He  had  served  in 
the  French  army  and  taken  part  in  many  battles, 
and  had  been  in  Paris  and  seen  the  tomb  of  the 
great  emperor,  —  ah,  there  was  a  man!  As  to  this 
grotto,  they  say  that  the  Virgin  used  to  send  to  it 
for  milk,  —  many  think  so.  As  for  him,  he  was  a 
soldier,  and  did  not  much  give  his  mind  to  such 
things. 

o 

This  grotto  is  an  excavation  in  the  chalky  rock, 
and  might  be  a  very  good  place  to  store  milk,  but 
for  the  popular  prejudice  in  cities  against  chalk 
and  water.  We  entered  it  through  the  court  of  a 
private  house,  and  the  damsel  who  admitted  us  also 
assured  us  that  the  Virgin  procured  milk  from  it. 
The  tradition  is  that  the  Virgin  and  Child  were 
concealed  here  for  a  time  before  the  flight  into 
Egypt;  and  ever  since  then  its  stone  has  the  mi- 
raculous power  of  increasing  the  flow  of  the  mater- 
nal breast.  The  early  fathers  encouraged  this  and 


THE   WELL   OF   BETHLEHEM  187 

the  like  superstitions  in  the  docile  minds  of  their 
fair  converts,  and  themselves  testified  to  the  efficacy 
of  this  remarkable  stone.  These  superstitions  be- 
long rather  to  the  Orient  than  to  any  form  of  reli- 
gion. There  is  a  famous  spring  at  Assiout  in 
Egypt  which  was  for  centuries  much  resorted  to  by 
ladies  who  desired  offspring ;  and  the  Arabs  on  the 
Upper  Nile  to-day,  who  wish  for  an  heir  male,  re- 
sort to  a  plant  which  grows  in  the  remote  desert, 
rare  and  difficult  to  find,  the  leaves  of  which  are 
"good  for  boys."  This  grotto  scarcely  repays  the 
visit,  except  for  the  view  one  obtains  of  the  wild 
country  below  it.  When  we  bade  good-by  to  the 
courtly  Arab,  we  had  too  much  delicacy  to  offer 
money  to  such  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier  of  the 
empire;  a  delicacy  not  shared  by  him,  however, 
for  he  let  no  false  modesty  hinder  a  request  for  a 
little  backsheesh  for  tobacco. 

On  our  return,  and  at  some  distance  from  the 
gate,  we  diverged  into  a  lane,  and  sought,  in  a 
rocky  field,  the  traditional  well  whose  waters  David 
longed  for  when  he  was  in  the  Cave  of  Adullam, 
—  "  O  that  one  would  give  me  drink  of  the  water 
of  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  which  is  by  the  gate! " 
Howbeit,  when  the  three  mighty  men  had  broken 
through  the  Philistine  guards  and  procured  him 
the  water,  David  would  not  drink  that  which  was 
brought  at  such  a  sacrifice.  Two  very  comely 
Bethlehem  girls  hastened  at  our  approach  to  draw 
water  from  the  well  and  gave  us  to  drink,  with  all 
the  freedom  of  Oriental  hospitality,  in  which  there 
is  always  an  expectation  of  backsheesh.  The 


188  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR   SABA 

water  is  at  any  rate  very  good,  and  there  is  no 
reason  why  these  pretty  girls  should  not  turn  an 
honest  penny  upon  the  strength  of  David's  thirst, 
whether  this  be  the  well  whose  water  he  desired  or 
not.  We  were  only  too  thankful  that  no  miracu- 
lous property  is  attributed  to  its  waters.  As  we 
returned,  we  had  the  evening  light  upon  the  gray 
walls  and  towers  of  the  city,  and  were  able  to  in- 
vest it  with  something  of  its  historical  dignity. 

The  next  excursion  that  we  made  from  Jerusa- 
lem was  so  different  from  the  one  to  Bethlehem, 
that  by  way  of  contrast  I  put  them  together.  It 
was  to  the  convent  of  Mar  Saba,  which  lies  in  the 
wilderness  towards  the  Dead  Sea,  about  two  hours 
and  a  half  from  the  city. 

In  those  good  old  days,  when  piety  was  mea- 
sured by  frugality  in  the  use  of  the  bath,  when 
the  holy  fathers  praised  most  those  hermits  who 
washed  least,  when  it  might  perhaps  be  the  boast 
of  more  than  one  virgin,  devoted  to  the  ascetic 
life,  that  she  had  lived  fifty-eight  years  during 
which  water  had  touched  neither  her  hands,  her 
face,  her  feet,  nor  any  part  of  her  body,  Palestine 
was,  after  Egypt,  the  favorite  resort  of  the  fanat- 
ical, the  unfortunate,  and  the  lazy,  who,  gathered 
into  communities  or  dwelling  in  solitary  caves, 
offered  to  the  barbarian  world  a  spectacle  of  super- 
stition and  abasement  under  the  name  of  Christian- 
ity. But  of  the  swarm  of  hermits  and  monks  who 
begged  in  the  cities  and  burrowed  in  the  caves  of 
the  Holy  Land  in  the  fifth  century,  no  one  may 
perhaps  be  spoken  of  with  more  respect  than  St. 


THE   CONVENT   OF   MAR   SABA  189 

Sabas,  who,  besides  a  reputation  for  sanctity,  has 
left  that  of  manliness  and  a  virile  ability,  which 
his  self -mortifications  did  not  extirpate.  And  of 
all  the  monasteries  of  that  period,  that  of  Mar 
Saba  is  the  only  one  in  Judaea  which  has  preserved 
almost  unbroken  the  type  of  that  time.  St.  Sabas 
was  a  Cappadocian  who  came  to  Palestine  in  search 
of  a  permanent  retreat,,  savage  enough  to  satisfy 
his  austere  soul.  He  found  it  in  a  cave  in  one  of 
the  wildest  gorges  in  this  most  desolate  of  lands,  a 
ravine  which  opens  into  the  mountains  from  the 
brook  Kidron.  The  fame  of  his  zeal  and  piety  at- 
tracted thousands  to  his  neighborhood,  so  that  at 
one  time  there  were  almost  as  many  hermits  roost- 
ing about  in  the  rocks  near  him  as  there  are  inhab- 
itants in  the  city  of  Jerusalem  now.  He  was  once 
enabled  to  lead  an  army  of  monks  to  that  city  and 
chastise  the  Monophysite  heretics.  His  cave  in 
the  steep  side  of  a  rocky  precipice  became  the  nu- 
cleus of  his  convent,  which  grew  around  it  and  at- 
tached itself  to  the  face  of  the  rock  as  best  it  could. 
For  the  convent  of  Mar  Saba  is  not  a  building, 
nor  a  collection  of  buildings,  so  much  as  it  is  a 
group  of  nests  attached  to  the  side  of  a  precipice. 

It  was  a  bright  Saturday  afternoon  that  a  young 
divinity  student  and  I,  taking  the  volatile  Deme- 
trius with  us  for  interpreter,  rode  out  of  St.  Ste- 
phen's gate,  into  Jehoshaphat,  past  the  gray  field 
of  Jewish  graves,  down  through  Tophet  and  the 
wild  ravine  of  the  Kidron. 

It  is  unpleasant  to  interrupt  the  prosperous  start 
of  a  pilgrimage  by  a  trifling  incident,  but  at  our 


190  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR   SABA 

first  descent  and  the  slightest  tension  on  the  bridle- 
reins  of  my  horse,  they  parted  from  the  bit.  This 
accident,  which  might  be  serious  in  other  lands,  is 
of  the  sort  that  is  anticipated  here,  and  I  may  say 
assured,  by  the  forethought  of  the  owners  of  sad- 
dle-horses. Upon  dismounting  with  as  much  haste 
as  dignity,  I  discovered  that  the  reins  had  been 
fastened  to  the  bit  by  a  single  rotten  string  of  cot- 
ton. Luckily  the  horse  I  rode  was  not  an  animal 
to  take  advantage  of  the  weakness  of  his  toggery. 
He  was  a  Syrian  horse,  a  light  sorrel,  and  had  no 
one  of  the  good  points  of  a  horse  except  the  name 
and  general  shape.  His  walk  was  slow  and  re- 
luctant, his  trot  a  high  and  non -progressive  jolt, 
his  gallop  a  large  up-and-down  agitation.  To  his 
bridle  of  strings  and  shreds  no  martingale  was  at- 
tached; no  horse  in  Syria  is  subject  to  that  re- 
straint. When  I  pull  the  bit  he  sticks  up  his  nose; 
when  I  switch  him  he  kicks.  When  I  hold  him 
in,  he  won't  go;  when  I  let  him  loose,  he  goes  on 
his  nose.  I  dismount  and  look  at  him  with  curi- 
osity; I  wonder  all  the  journey  what  }\\s  forte  is, 
but  I  never  discover.  I  conclude  that  he  is  like 
the  emperor  Honorius,  whom  Gibbon  stigmatizes 
as  "without  passions,  and  consequently  without 
talents." 

Yet  he  was  not  so  bad  as  the  roads,  and  perhaps 
no  horse  would  do  much  better  on  these  stony  and 
broken  foot-paths.  This  horse  is  not  a  model  (for 
anything  but  a  clothes-horse),  but  from  my  obser- 
v^tion  I  think  that  great  injustice  has  been  done 
to  Syrian  horses  by  travelers,  who  have  only  them- 


SYRIAN  HORSES  191 

selves  to  blame  for  accidents  which  bring  the  horses 
into  disrepute.  Travelers  are  thrown  from  these 
steeds ;  it  is  a  daily  occurrence ;  we  heard  contin- 
ually that  somebody  had  a  fall  from  his  horse 
on  his  way  to  the  Jordan,  or  to  Mar  Saba,  or  to 
Nablous,  and  was  laid  up,  and  it  was  always  in 
consequence  of  a  vicious  brute.  The  fact  is  that 
excellent  ministers  of  the  gospel  and  doctors  of 
divinity  and  students  of  the  same,  who  have  never 
in  their  lives  been  on  the  back  of  a  horse  in  any 
other  land,  seem  to  think  when  they  come  here  that 
the  holy  air  of  Palestine  will  transform  them  into 
accomplished  horsemen ;  or  perhaps  they  are  emu- 
lous of  Elisha,  that  they  may  go  to  heaven  by 
means  of  a  fiery  steed. 

For  a  while  we  had  the  company  of  the  singing 
brook  Kidron,  flowing  clear  over  the  stones;  then 
we  left  the  ravine  and  wound  over  rocky  steeps, 
which  afforded  us  fine  views  of  broken  hills  and 
interlacing  ridges,  and  when  we  again  reached  the 
valley  the  brook  had  disappeared  in  the  thirsty 
ground.  The  road  is  strewn,  not  paved,  with 
stones,  and  in  many  places  hardly  practicable  for 
horses.  Occasionally  we  encountered  flocks  of 
goats  and  of  long  -  wooled  sheep  feeding  on  the 
scant  grass  of  the  hills,  and  tended  by  boys  in  the 
coarse  brown  and  striped  garments  of  the  country, 
which  give  a  state-prison  aspect  to  most  of  the  in- 
habitants, —  but  there  was  no  other  life,  and  no 
trees  offer  relief  to  the  hard  landscape.  But  the 
way  was  now  and  then  bright  with  flowers,  thickly 
carpeted  with  scarlet  anemones,  the  Star  of  Beth- 


192  BETHLEHEM    AND   MAR   SABA 

lehem,  and  tiny  dandelions.  Two  hours  from  the 
city  we  passed  several  camps  of  Bedaween,  their 
brown  low  camel' s-hair  tents  pitched  among  the 
rocks  and  scarcely  distinguishable  in  the  sombre 
landscape.  About  the  tents  were  grouped  camels 
and  donkeys,  and  from  them  issued  and  pursued 
us  begging  boys  and  girls.  A  lazy  Bedawee  ap- 
peared here  and  there  with  a  long  gun,  and  we 
could  imagine  that  this  gloomy  region  might  be 
unsafe  after  nightfall;  but  no  danger  ever  seems 
possible  in  such  bright  sunshine  and  under  a  sky 
so  blue  and  friendly. 

When  a  half  hour  from  the  convent,  we  turned 
to  the  right  from  the  road  to  the  Dead  Sea,  and 
ascending  a  steep  hill  found  ourselves  riding  along 
the  edge  of  a  deep  winding  gorge ;  a  brook  flows 
at  the  bottom,  and  its  sides  are  sheer  precipices  of 
rock,  generally  parallel,  but  occasionally  widening 
into  amphitheatres  of  the  most  fantastic  rocky 
formation.  It  is  on  one  side  of  this  narrow  ravine 
that  the  convent  is  built,  partly  excavated  in  the 
rock,  partly  resting  on  jutting  ledges,  and  partly 
hung  out  in  the  form  of  balconies,  —  buildings 
clinging  to  the  steep  side  like  a  comb  of  wild  bees 
or  wasps  to  a  rock. 

Our  first  note  of  approach  to  it  was  the  sight  of 
a  square  tower  and  of  the  roofs  of  buildings  below 
us.  Descending  from  the  road  by  several  short 
turns,  and  finally  by  two  steep  paved  inclines,  we 
came  to  a  lofty  wall  in  which  is  a  small  iron  door. 
As  we  could  go  no  farther  without  aid  from  within, 
Demetrius  shouted,  and  soon  we  had  a  response 


INHOSPITABLE  MONKS  193 

from  a  slit  in  the  wall  fifty  feet  above  us  to  the 
left.  We  could  see  no  one,  but  the  voice  de- 
manded who  we  were,  and  whether  we  had  a  pass. 
Above  the  slit  from  which  the  angelic  voice  pro- 
ceeded a  stone  projected,  and  in  this  was  an  open- 
ing for  letting  down  or  drawing  up  articles.  This 
habit  of  caution  in  regard  to  who  or  what  shall 
come  into  the  convent  is  of  course  a  relic  of  the 
gone  ages  of  tumult,  but  it  is  still  necessary  as  a 
safeguard  against  the  wandering  Bedaween,  who 
would  no  doubt  find  means  to  plunder  the  convent 
of  its  great  wealth  of  gold,  silver,  and  jewels  if 
they  were  not  at  all  times  rigorously  excluded. 
The  convent  with  its  walls  and  towers  is  still  a  for- 
tress strong  enough  to  resist  any  irregular  attempts 
of  the  wandering  tribes.  It  is  also  necessary  to 
strictly  guard  the  convent  against  women,  who  in 
these  days  of  speculation,  if  not  scientific  curiosity, 
often  knock  impatiently  and  angrily  at  its  gates, 
and  who,  if  admitted,  would  in  one  gay  and  chatty 
hour  destroy  the  spell  of  holy  seclusion  which  has 
been  unbroken  for  one  thousand  three  hundred  and 
ninety -two  years.  I  know  that  sometimes  it  seems 
an  unjust  ordination  of  Providence  that  a  woman 
cannot  be  a  man,  but  I  cannot  join  those  who  up- 
braid the  monks  of  Mar  Saba  for  inhospitality  be- 
cause they  refuse  to  admit  women  under  any  cir- 
cumstances into  the  precincts  of  the  convent ;  if  I 
do  not  sympathize  with  the  brothers,  I  can  under- 
stand their  adhesion  to  the  last  shred  of  man's 
independence,  which  is  only  to  be  maintained  by 
absolute  exclusion  of  the  other  sex.  It  is  not  neces- 


194  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR   SABA 

sary  to  revive  the  defamation  of  the  early  Christian 
ages,  that  the  devil  appeared  oftener  to  the  hermit 
in  the  form  of  a  beautiful  woman  than  in  any 
other ;  but  we  may  not  regret  that  there  is  still  one 
spot  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  if  it  is  no  bigger  than 
the  sod  upon  which  Noah's,  pioneer  dove  alighted, 
in  which  weak  men  may  be  safe  from  the  tempta- 
tion, the  criticism,  and  the  curiosity  of  the  superior 
being.  There  is  an  airy  tower  on  the  rocks  out- 
side the  walls  which  women  may  occupy  if  they 
cannot  restrain  their  desire  to  lodge  in  this  neigh- 
borhood, or  if  night  overtakes  them  here  on  their 
way  from  the  Dead  Sea;  there  Madame  Pfeiffer, 
Miss  Martineau,  and  other  famous  travelers  of 
their  sex  have  found  refuge,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say 
abused  their  proximity  to  this  retreat  of  shuddering 
man  by  estimating  the  piety  of  its  inmates  accord- 
ing to  their  hospitality  to  women.  So  far  as  I  can 
learn,  this  convent  of  Mar  Saba  is  now  the  only 
retreat  left  on  this  broad  earth  for  MAN  ;  and  it 
seems  to  me  only  reasonable  that  it  should  be  re- 
spected by  his  generous  and  gentle,  though  inquis- 
itive foe. 

After  further  parley  with  Demetrius  and  a  con- 
siderable interval,  we  heard  a  bell  ring,  and  in  a 
few  moments  the  iron  door  opened,  and  we  en- 
tered, stepping  our  horses  carefully  over  the  stone 
threshold,  and  showing  our  pass  from  the  Jerusa- 
lem Patriarch  to  an  attendant,  and  came  into  a 
sort  of  stable  hewn  in  the  rock.  Here  we  aban- 
doned our  horses,  and  were  taken  in  charge  by  a 
monk  whom  the  bell  had  summoned  from  below. 


Convent  of  Mar  Saba 


FASTING   IN   MAR   SABA  195 

He  conducted  us  down  several  long  flights  of  zig- 
zag stairs  in  the  rock,  amid  hanging  buildings  and 
cells,  until  we  came  to  what  appears  to  be  a  broad 
ledge  in  the  precipice,  and  found  ourselves  in  the 
central  part  of  this  singular  hive,  that  is,  in  a 
small  court,  with  cells  and  rocks  on  one  side  and 
the  convent  church,  which  overhangs  the  precipice, 
on  the  other.  Beside  the  church  and  also  at  an- 
other side  of  the  court  are  buildings  in  which  pil- 
grims are  lodged,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  court  is 
the  tomb  of  St.  Sabas  himself.  Here  our  passports 
were  examined,  and  we  were  assigned  a  cheerful 
and  airy  room  looking  upon  the  court  and  tomb. 

One  of  the  brothers  soon  brought  us  coffee,  and 
the  promptness  of  this  hospitality  augured  well  for 
the  remainder  of  our  fare ;  relying  upon  the  repu- 
tation of  the  convent  for  good  cheer,  we  had 
brought  nothing  with  us,  not  so  much  as  a  biscuit. 
Judge  of  our  disgust,  then,  at  hearing  the  follow- 
ing dialogue  between  Demetrius  and  the  Greek 
monk. 

"What  time  can  the  gentlemen  dine?  " 

"Any  time  they  like." 

"What  have  you  for  dinner?" 

"Nothing." 

"You  can  give  us  no  dinner?  " 

"To  be  sure  not.     It  is  fast." 

"But  we  haven't  a  morsel,  we  shall  starve." 

"Perhaps  I  can  find  a  little  bread." 

"Nothing  else?" 

"We  have  very  good  raisins." 

"Well,"  we  interposed,  "kill  us  a  chicken,  give 


196  BETHLEHEM    AND   MAR   SABA 

us  a  few  oysters,  stewed  or  broiled,  we  are  not 
particular."  This  levity,  which  was  born  of  des- 
peration, for  the  jolting  ride  from  Jerusalem  had 
indisposed  us  to  keep  a  fast,  especially  a  fast  estab- 
lished by  a  church  the  orthodoxy  of  whose  creed 
we  had  strong  reasons  to  doubt,  did  not  affect  the 
monk.  He  replied,  "Chicken!  it  is  impossible." 
We  shrunk  our  requisition  to  eggs. 

"If  I  can  find  an  egg,  I  will  see."  And  the 
brother  departed,  with  carte  blanche  from  us  to 
squeeze  his  entire  establishment. 

Alas,  fasting  is  not  in  Mar  Saba  what  it  is  in 
New  England,  where  an  appointed  fast-day  is 
hailed  as  an  opportunity  to  forego  lunch  in  order 
to  have  an  extraordinary  appetite  for  a  better  din- 
ner than  usual ! 

The  tomb  of  St.  Sabas,  the  central  worship  of 
this  hive,  is  a  little  plastered  hut  in  the  middle  of 
the  court;  the  interior  is  decorated  with  pictures 
in  the  Byzantine  style,  and  a  lamp  is  always  burn- 
ing there.  As  we  stood  at  the  tomb  we  heard 
voices  chanting,  and,  turning  towards  the  rock,  we 
saw  a  door  from  which  the  sound  came.  Pushing 
it  open,  we  were  admitted  into  a  large  chapel,  ex- 
cavated in  the  rock.  The  service  of  vespers  was 
in  progress,  and  a  band  of  Russian  pilgrims  were 
chanting  in  rich  bass  voices,  producing  more  mel- 
ody than  I  had  ever  heard  in  a  Greek  church. 
The  excavation  extends  some  distance  into  the  hill ; 
we  were  shown  the  cells  of  St.  John  of  Damascus 
and  other  hermits,  and  at  the  end  a  charnel-house 
piled  full  of  the  bones  of  men.  In  the  dim  light 


ST.    JOHN   OF   DAMASCUS  197 

their  skulls  grinned  at  us  in  a  horrid  familiarity; 
in  that  ghastly  jocularity  which  a  skull  always  puts 
on,  with  a  kind  of  mocking  commentary  upon  the 
strong  chant  of  the  pilgrims,  which  reverberated  in 
all  the  recesses  of  the  gloomy  cave,  —  fresh,  hearty 
voices,  such  as  these  skulls  have  heard  (if  they  can 
hear)  for  many  centuries.  The  pilgrims  come,  and 
chant,  and  depart,  generation  after  generation ;  the 
bones  and  skulls  of  the  fourteen  thousand  mar- 
tyrs in  this  charn el-bin  enjoy  a  sort  of  repulsive 
immortality.  The  monk,  who  was  our  guide,  ap- 
peared to  care  no  more  for  the  remains  of  the  mar- 
tyrs than  for  the  presence  of  the  pilgrims.  In  vis- 
iting such  storehouses  one  cannot  but  be  struck  by 
the  light  familiarity  with  the  relics  and  insignia  of 
death  which  the  monks  have  acquired. 

This  St.  John  of  Damascus,  whose  remains  re- 
pose here,  was  a  fiery  character  in  his  day,  and 
favored  by  a  special  miracle  before  he  became  a 
saint.  He  so  distinguished  himself  by  his  invec- 
tives against  Leo  and  Constantine  and  other  icono- 
clast emperors  at  Constantinople  who,  in  the  eighth 
century,  attempted  to  extirpate  image  -  worship 
from  the  Catholic  Church,  that  he  was  sentenced 
to  lose  his  right  hand.  The  story  is  that  it  was 
instantly  restored  by  the  Virgin  Mary.  It  is 
worthy  of  note  that  the  superstitious  Orient  more 
readily  gave  up  idolatry  or  image-worship  under 
the  Moslems  than  under  the  Christians. 

As  the  sun  was  setting  we  left  the  pilgrims 
chanting  to  the  martyrs,  and  hastened  to  explore 
the  premises  a  little,  before  the  light  should  fade. 


198  BETHLEHEM    AND   MAR   SABA 

We  followed  our  guide  up  stairs  and  down  stairs, 
sometimes  cut  in  the  stone,  sometimes  wooden 
stairways,  along  hanging  galleries,  through  corri- 
dors hewn  in  the  rock,  amid  cells  and  little  chap- 
els, —  a  most  intricate  labyrinth,  in  which  the 
uninitiated  would  soon  lose  his  way.  Here  and 
there  we  came  suddenly  upon  a  little  garden  spot 
as  big  as  a  bed-blanket,  a  ledge  upon  which  soil 
had  been  deposited.  We  walked  also  under  grape- 
trellises,  we  saw  orange-trees,  and  the  single  palm- 
tree  that  the  convent  boasts,  said  to  have  been 
planted  by  St.  Sabas  himself.  The  plan  of  this 
establishment  gradually  developed  itself  to  us.  It 
differs  from  an  ordinary  convent  chiefly  in  this,  — 
the  latter  is  spread  out  flat  on  the  earth,  Mar 
Saba  is  set  up  edgewise.  Put  Mar  Saba  on  a 
plain,  and  these  little  garden  spots  and  graperies 
would  be  courts  and  squares  amid  buildings,  these 
galleries  would  be  bridges,  these  cells  or  horizon- 
tal caves  would  be  perpendicular  tombs  and  reser- 
voirs. 

When  we  arrived,  we  supposed  that  we  were 
almost  the  only  guests.  But  we  found  that  the 
place  was  full  of  Greek  and  Russian  pilgrims;  we 
encountered  them  on  the  terraces,  on  the  flat  roofs, 
in  the  caves,  and  in  all  out-of-the-way  nooks.  Yet 
these  were  not  the  most  pleasing  nor  the  most  ani- 
mated tenants  of  the  place ;  wherever  we  went  the 
old  rookery  was  made  cheerful  by  the  twittering 
notes  of  black  birds  with  yellow  wings,  a  species  of 
grakle,  which  the  monks  have  domesticated,  and 
which  breed  in  great  numbers.  Steeled  as  these 


AN   ORIENTAL   DINNER  199 

good  brothers  are  against  the  other  sex,  we  were 
glad  to  discover  this  streak  of  softness  in  their  na- 
ture. High  up  on  the  precipice  there  is  a  bell- 
tower  attached  to  a  little  chapel,  and  in  it  hang 
twenty  small  bells,  which  are  rung  to  call  the  in- 
mates to  prayer.  Even  at  this  height,  and  indeed 
wherever  we  penetrated,  we  were  followed  by  the 
monotonous  chant  which  issued  from  the  charnel- 
house. 

We  passed  by  a  long  row  of  cells  occupied  by 
the  monks,  but  were  not  permitted  to  look  into 
them;  nor  were  we  allowed  to  see  the  library, 
which  is  said  to  be  rich  in  illuminated  manuscripts. 
The  convent  belongs  to  the  Greek  Church;  its 
monks  take  the  usual  vows  of  poverty,  chastity, 
and  obedience,  and  fortify  themselves  in  their  holi- 
ness by  opposing  walls  of  adamant  to  all  woman- 
kind. There  are  about  fifty  monks  here  at  present, 
and  uncommonly  fine-looking  fellows,  —  not  at  all 
the  gross  and  greasy  sort  of  monk  that  is  sometimes 
met.  Their  outward  dress  is  very  neat,  consisting 
of  a  simple  black  gown  and  a  round,  high,  flat- 
topped  black  cap. 

Our  dinner,  when  it  was  brought  into  our  apart- 
ment, answered  very  well  one's  idea  of  a  dessert, 
but  it  was  a  very  good  Oriental  dinner.  The  chief 
articles  were  a  piece  of  hard  black  bread,  and  two 
boiled  eggs,  cold,  and  probably  brought  by  some 
pilgrim  from  Jerusalem;  but  besides,  there  were 
raisins,  cheese,  figs,  oranges,  a  bottle  of  golden 
wine,  and  tea.  The  wine  was  worthy  to  be  cele- 
brated in  classic  verse ;  none  so  good  is,  I  am  sure, 


200  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR    SABA 

made  elsewhere  in  Syria ;  it  was  liquid  sunshine ; 
and  as  it  was  manufactured  by  the  monks,  it  gave 
us  a  new  respect  for  their  fastidious  taste. 

The  vaulted  chamber  which  we  occupied  was 
furnished  on  three  sides  with  a  low  divan,  which 
answered  the  double  purpose  of  chairs  and  couch. 
On  one  side,  however,  and  elevated  in  the  wall, 
was  a  long  niche,  exactly  like  the  recessed  tombs 
in  cathedrals,  upon  which,  toes  turned  up,  lie  the 
bronze  or  wooden  figures  of  the  occupants.  This 
was  the  bed  of  honor.  It  was  furnished  with  a 
mattress  and  a  thick  counterpane  having  one  sheet 
sewed  to  it.  With  reluctance  I  accepted  the  dis- 
tinction of  climbing  into  it,  and  there  I  slept,  laid 
out,  for  all  the  world,  like  my  own  effigy.  From 
the  ceiling  hung  a  dim  oil-lamp,  which  cast  a 
gloom  rather  than  a  light  upon  our  sepulchral  place 
of  repose.  Our  windows  looked  out  towards  the 
west,  upon  the  court,  upon  the  stairs,  upon  the  ter- 
races, roofs,  holes,  caves,  grottos,  wooden  balco- 
nies, bird-cages,  steps  entering  the  rock  and  leading 
to  cells;  and,  towards  the  south,  along  the  jagged 
precipice.  The  convent  occupies  the  precipice 
from  the  top  nearly  to  the  bottom  of  the  ravine ; 
the  precipice  opposite  is  nearly  perpendicular, 
close  at  hand,  and  permits  no  view  in  that  direc- 
tion. Heaven  is  the  only  object  in  sight  from  this 
retreat. 

Before  the  twilight  fell  the  chanting  was  still 
going  on  in  the  cavern,  monks  and  pilgrims  were 
gliding  about  the  court,  and  numbers  of  the  latter 
were  clustered  in  the  vestibule  of  the  church,  in 


NIGHT  IN   THE   CONVENT  201 

which  they  were  settling  down  to  lodge  for  the 
night ;  and  high  above  us  I  saw  three  gaudily  at- 
tired Bedaween,  who  had  accompanied  some  travel- 
ers from  the  Dead  Sea,  leaning  over  the  balustrade 
of  the  stairs,  and  regarding  the  scene  with  Moslem 
complacency.  The  hive  settled  slowly  to  rest. 

But  the  place  was  by  no  means  still  at  night. 
There  was  in  the  court  an  old  pilgrim  who  had 
brought  a  cough  from  the  heart  of  Russia,  who 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  cough  himself  inside  out. 
There  were  other  noises  that  could  not  be  ex- 
plained. There  was  a  good  deal  of  clattering 
about  in  wooden  shoes.  Every  sound  was  multi- 
plied and  reduplicated  from  the  echoing  rocks. 
The  strangeness  of  the  situation  did  not  conduce 
to  sleep,  not  even  to  an  effigy -like  repose;  but 
after  looking  from  the  window  upon  the  march  of 
the  quiet  stars,  after  watching  the  new  moon  dis- 
appear between  the  roofs,  and  after  seeing  that 
the  door  of  St.  Sabas's  tomb  was-^closed,  although 
his  light  was  still  burning,  I  turned  in ;  and  after 
a  time,  during  which  I  was  conscious  that  not 
even  vows  of  poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience  are 
respected  by  fleas,  I  fell  into  a  light  sleep. 

From  this  I  was  aroused  by  a  noise  that  seemed 
like  the  call  to  judgment,  by  the  most  clamorous 
jangle  of  discordant  bells,  —  all  the  twenty  were 
ringing  at  once,  and  each  in  a  different  key.  It 
was  not  simply  a  din,  it  was  an  earthquake  of 
sound.  The  peals  were  echoed  from  the  opposite 
ledges,  and  reverberated  among  the  rocks  and 
caves  and  sharp  angles  of  the  convent,  until  the 


202  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR   SABA 

crash  was  intolerable.  It  was  worse  than  the 
slam,  bang,  shriek,  clang,  clash,  roar,  dissonance, 
thunder,  and  hurricane  with  which  all  musicians 
think  it  absolutely  necessary  to  close  any  overture, 
symphony,  or  musical  composition  whatever,  how- 
ever decent  and  quiet  it  may  be.  It  was  enough 
to  rouse  the  deafest  pilgrim,  to  wake  the  dead 
martyrs  and  set  the  fourteen  thousand  skulls  hunt- 
ing for  their  bones,  to  call  even  St.  Sabas  himself 
from  his  tomb.  I  arose.  I  saw  in  the  starlight 
figures  moving  about  the  court,  monks  in  their 
simple  black  gowns.  It  was,  I  comprehended 
then,  the  call  to  midnight  prayer  in  the  chapel, 
and,  resolved  not  to  be  disturbed  further  by  it,  I 
climbed  back  into  my  tomb. 

But  the  clamor  continued ;  I  heard  such  a  clatter 
of  hobnailed  shoes  on  the  pavement,  besides,  that 
I  could  bear  it  no  longer,  got  up,  slipped  into  some 
of  my  clothes,  opened  the  door,  and  descended  by 
our  winding  priyate  stairway  into  the  court. 

The  door  of  St.  Sabas' s  tomb  was  wide  open! 

Were  the  graves  opening,  and  the  dead  taking 
the  air?  Did  this  tomb  open  of  its  own  accord? 
Out  of  its  illuminated  interior  would  the  saint 
stalk  forth  and  join  this  great  procession,  the  re- 
veille of  the  quick  and  the  slow? 

From  above  and  from  below,  up  stairs  and  down 
stairs,  out  of  caves  and  grottos  and  all  odd  roost- 
ing-places,  the  monks  and  pilgrims  were  pouring 
and  streaming  into  the  court;  and  the  bells  inces- 
santly called  more  and  more  importunately  as  the 
loiterers  delayed. 


MIDNIGHT   PRAYER  203 

The  church  was  open,  and  lighted  at  the  altar 
end.  I  glided  in  with  the  other  ghostly,  hastily 
clad,  and  yawning  pilgrims.  The  screen  at  the 
apse  before  the  holy  place,  a  mass  of  silver  and 
gilding,  sparkled  in  the  candlelight ;  the  cross  above 
it  gleamed  like  a  revelation  out  of  the  gloom ;  but 
half  of  the  church  was  in  heavy  shadow.  From 
the  penetralia  came  the  sound  of  priestly  chant- 
ing; in  the  wooden  stalls  along  each  side  of  the 
church  stood,  facing  the  altar,  the  black  and  mo- 
tionless figures  of  the  brothers.  The  pilgrims 
were  crowding  and  jostling  in  at  the  door.  A 
brother  gave  me  a  stall  near  the  door,  and  I  stood 
in  it,  as  statue-like  as  I  could,  and  became  a 
brother  for  the  time  being. 

At  the  left  of  the  door  stood  a  monk  with  impas- 
sive face;  before  him  on  a  table  were  piles  of  wax 
tapers  and  a  solitary  lighted  candle.  Every  pil- 
grim who  entered  bought  a  taper  and  paid  two  cop- 
pers for  it.  If  he  had  not  the  change  the  monk 
gave  him  change,  and  the  pilgrim  carefully 
counted  what  he  received  and  objected  to  any  piece 
he  thought  not  current.  You  may  wake  these 
people  up  any  time  of  night,  and  find  their  percep- 
tions about  money  unobscured.  The  seller  never 
looked  at  the  buyer,  nor  at  anything  except  the 
tapers  and  the  money. 

The  pilgrims  were  of  all  ages  and  grades :  very 
old  men,  stout  middle-aged  men,  and  young  ath- 
letic fellows;  there  were  Russians  from  all  the 
provinces;  Greeks  from  the  isles,  with  long  black 
locks  and  dark  eyes,  in  fancy  embroidered  jackets 


204  BETHLEHEM   AND   MAR   SABA 

and  leggins,  swarthy  bandits  and  midnight  pirates 
in  appearance.  But  it  tends  to  make  anybody 
look  like  a  pirate  to  wake  him  up  at  twelve  o'clock 
at  night,  and  haul  him  into  the  light  with  no  time 
to  comb  his  hair.  I  dare  say  that  I  may  have  ap- 
peared to  these  honest  people  like  a  Western  land- 
pirate.  And  yet  I  should  rather  meet  some  of 
those  Greeks  in  a  lighted  church  than  outside  the 
walls  at  midnight. 

Each  pilgrim  knelt  and  bowed  himself,  then 
lighted  his  taper  and  placed  it  on  one  of  the  tripods 
before  the  screen.  In  time  the  church  was  very 
fairly  illuminated,  and  nearly  filled  with  standing 
worshipers,  bowing,  crossing  themselves,  and  re- 
sponding to  the  reading  and  chanting  in  low  mur- 
murs. The  chanting  was  a  very  nasal  intoning, 
usually  slow,  but  now  and  then  breaking  into  a 
lively  gallop.  The  assemblage,  quiet  and  respect- 
ful, but  clad  in  all  the  vagaries  of  Oriental  colors 
and  rags,  contained  some  faces  that  appeared  very 
wild  in  the  half  light.  When  the  service  had 
gone  on  half  an  hour,  a  priest  came  out  with  a 
tinkling  censer  and  incensed  carefully  every  nook 
and  corner  and  person  (even  the  vestibule,  where 
some  of  the  pilgrims  slept,  which  needed  it),  until 
the  church  was  filled  with  smoke  and  perfume. 
The  performance  went  on  for  an  hour  or  more,  but 
I  crept  back  to  bed  long  before  it  was  over,  and 
fell  to  sleep  on  the  drone  of  the  intoning. 

We  were  up  before  sunrise  on  Sunday  morning. 
The  pilgrims  were  already  leaving  for  Jerusalem. 
There  was  no  trace  of  the  last  night's  revelry; 


THE   CELL  OF   ST.  SABAS  205 

everything  was  commonplace  in  the  bright  day- 
light. We  were  served  with  coffee,  and  then 
finished  our  exploration  of  the  premises. 

That  which  we  had  postponed  as  the  most  inter- 
esting sight  was  the  cell  of  St.  Sabas.  It  is  a  nat- 
ural grotto  in  the  rock,  somewhat  enlarged  either 
by  the  saint  or  by  his  successors.  When  St.  Sabas 
first  came  to  this  spot,  he  found  a  lion  in  posses- 
sion. It  was  not  the  worst  kind  of  a  lion,  but  a 
sort  of  Judaean  lion,  one  of  those  meek  beasts  over 
whom  the  ancient  hermits  had  so  much  control. 
St.  Sabas  looked  at  the  cave  and  at  the  lion,  but 
the  cave  suited  him  better  than  the  lion.  The  lion 
looked  at  the  saint,  and  evidently  knew  what  was 
passing  in  his  mind.  For  the  lions  in  those  days 
were  nearly  as  intelligent  as  anybody  else.  And 
then  St.  Sabas  told  the  lion  to  go  away,  that  he 
wanted  that  lodging  for  himself.  And  the  lion, 
without  a  growl,  put  his  tail  down,  and  immedi- 
ately went  away.  There  is  a  picture  of  this  inter- 
view still  preserved  at  the  convent,  and  any  one 
can  see  that  it  is  probable  that  such  a  lion  as  the 
artist  has  represented  would  move  on  when  re- 
quested to  do  so. 

In  the  cave  is  a  little  recess,  the  entrance  to 
which  is  a  small  hole,  a  recess  just  large  enough 
to  accommodate  a  person  in  a  sitting  posture.  In 
this  place  St.  Sabas  sat  for  seven  years,  without 
once  coming  out.  That  was  before  the  present 
walls  were  built  in  front  of  the  grotto,  and  he  had 
some  light,  —  he  sat  seven  years  on  that  hard 
stone,  as  long  as  the  present  French  Assembly  in- 


206 

tends  to  sit.  It  was  with  him  also  a  provisional 
sitting,  in  fact,  a  Septennate. 

In  the  court-yard,  as  we  were  departing,  were 
displayed  articles  to  sell  to  the  pious  pilgrims: 
canes  from  the  Jordan;  crosses  painted,  and  in- 
laid with  cedar  or  olive  wood,  or  some  sort  of  Jor- 
dan timber ;  rude  paintings  of  the  sign-board  order 
done  by  the  monks,  St.  George  and  the  Dragon 
being  the  favorite  subject;  hyperbolical  pictures 
of  the  convent  and  the  saint,  stamped  in  black 
upon  cotton  cloth;  and  holy  olive-oil  in  tin  cans. 

Perhaps  the  most  taking  article  of  merchandise 
offered  was  dates  from  the  palm-tree  that  St.  Sabas 
planted.  These  dates  have  no  seeds.  There  was 
something  appropriate  about  this ;  childless  monks, 
seedless  dates.  One  could  understand  that.  But 
these  dates  were  bought  by  the  pilgrims  to  carry 
to  their  wives  who  desire  but  have  not  sons.  By 
what  reasoning  the  monks  have  convinced  them 
that  fruitless  dates  will  be  a  cause  of  fruitfulness, 
I  do  not  know. 

We  paid  our  tribute,  climbed  up  the  stairways 
and  out  the  grim  gate  into  the  highway,  and  had 
a  glorious  ride  in  the  fresh  morning  air,  the  way 
enlivened  by  wild  -  flowers,  blue  sky,  Bedaween, 
and  troops  of  returning  pilgrims,  and  finally  en- 
nobled by  the  sight  of  Jerusalem  itself,  conspicu- 
ous on  its  hill. 


VII 

THE  FAIR  OF  MOSES  ;  THE  ARMENIAN 
PATRIARCH 

HE  Moslems  believe  that  their  religion 
superseded  Judaism  and  Christianity, 
—  Mohammed  closing  the  culminating 
series  of  six  great  prophets,  Adam, 
Noah,  Abraham,  Moses,  Jesus,  Mohammed,  — 
and  that  they  have  a  right  to  administer  on  the  ef- 
fects of  both.  They  appropriate  our  sacred  history 
and  embellish  it  without  the  least  scruple,  assume 
exclusive  right  to  our  sacred  places,  and  enroll  in 
their  own  calendar  all  our  notable  heroes  and 
saints. 

On  the  16th  of  April  was  inaugurated  in  Jeru- 
salem the  fete  and  fair  of  the  Prophet  Moses.  The 
fair  is  held  yearly  at  Neby  Musa,  a  Moslem  wely, 
in  the  wilderness  of  Judaea,  some  three  or  four 
hours  from  Jerusalem  on  a  direct  line  to  the  Dead 
Sea.  There  Moses,  according  to  the  Moslem  tra- 
dition, was  buried,  and  thither  the  faithful  resort 
in  great  crowds  at  this  anniversary,  and  hold  a 
four  days'  fair. 

At  midnight  the  air  was  humming  with  prepa- 
rations ;  the  whole  city  buzzed  like  a  hive  about  to 


208  THE   FAIR  OF  MOSES 

swarm.  For  many  days  pilgrims  had  been  gather- 
ing for  this  festival,  coming  in  on  all  the  moun- 
tain roads,  from  Gath  and  Askalon,  from  Hebron, 
from  Nablous  and  Jaffa,  —  pilgrims  as  zealous  and 
as  ragged  as  those  that  gather  to  the  Holy  Sepul- 
chre and  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan.  In  the  early 
morning  we  heard  the  pounding  of  drums,  the  clash 
of  cymbals,  the  squeaking  of  fifes,  and  an  occa- 
sional gun,  let  off  as  it  were  by  accident,  —  very 
much  like  the  dawn  of  a  Fourth  of  July  at  home. 
Processions  were  straggling  about  the  streets,  ap- 
parently lost,  like  ward-delegations  in  search  of 
the  beginning  of  St.  Patrick's  Day;  a  disorderly 
scramble  of  rags  and  color,  a  rabble  hustling  along 
without  step  or  order,  preceded  usually  by  half  a 
dozen  enormous  flags,  green,  red,  yellow,  and 
blue,  embroidered  with  various  devices  and  texts 
from  the  Koran,  which  hung  lifeless  on  their 
staves,  but  grouped  in  mass  made  as  lively  a  study 
of  color  as  a  bevy  of  sails  of  the  Chioggia  fishing- 
boats  flocking  into  the  port  of  Venice  at  sunrise. 
Before  the  banners  walked  the  musicians,  filling 
the  narrow  streets  with  a  fearful  uproar  of  rude 
drums  and  cymbals.  These  people  seem  to  have 
inherited  the  musical  talent  of  the  ancient  Jews, 
and  to  have  the  same  passion  for  noise  and  discord. 
As  the  procession  would  not  move  to  the  Tomb 
of  Moses  until  afternoon,  we  devoted  the  morning 
to  a  visit  to  the  Armenian  Patriarch.  Isaac,  arch- 
bishop, and  by  the  grace  of  God  Patriarch  of  the 
Armenians  of  Jerusalem,  occupant  of  the  holy 
apostolic  seat  of  St.  James  (the  Armenian  convent 


THE   ARMENIAN   PATRIARCH  209 

stands  upon  the  traditional  site  of  the  martyrdom 
of  St.  James),  claims  to  be  the  spiritual  head  of 
five  millions  of  Armenians,  in  Turkey,  Syria,  Pal- 
estine, India,  and  Persia.  By  firman  from  the 
Sultan,  the  Copts  and  the  Syrian  and  the  Abys- 
sinian Christians  are  in  some  sort  under  his  juris- 
diction, but  the  authority  is  merely  nominal. 

The  reception-room  of  the  convent  is  a  handsome 
hall  (for  Jerusalem),  extending  over  an  archway 
of  the  street  below  and  looking  upon  a  garden. 
The  walls  are  hung  with  engravings  and  litho- 
graphs, most  of  them  portraits  of  contemporary 
sovereigns  and  princes  of  Europe,  in  whose  august 
company  the  Patriarch  seems  to  like  to  sun  himself. 
We  had  not  to  wait  long  before  he  appeared  and 
gave  us  a  courteous  and  simple  welcome.  As  soon 
as  he  learned  that  we  were  Americans,  he  said  that 
he  had  something  that  he  thought  would  interest 
us,  and  going  to  his  table  took  out  of  the  drawer 
an  old  number  of  an  American  periodical  contain- 
ing a  portrait  of  an  American  publisher,  which  he 
set  great  store  by.  We  congratulated  him  upon 
his  possession  of  this  treasure,  and  expressed  our 
passionate  fondness  for  this  sort  of  thing,  for  we 
soon  discovered  the  delight  the  Patriarch  took  in 
pictures  and  especially  in  portraits,  and  not  least 
in  photographs  of  himself  in  the  full  regalia  of  his 
sacred  office.  And  with  reason,  for  he  is  probably 
the  handsomest  potentate  in  the  world.  He  is  a 
tall,  finely  proportioned  man  of  fifty  years,  and 
his  deportment  exhibits  that  happy  courtesy  which 
is  born  of  the  love  of  approbation  and  a  kindly 


210  THE   FAIR  OF  MOSES 

opinion  of  self.  He  was  clad  in  the  black  cloak 
with  the  pointed  hood  of  the  convent,  which  made 
a  fine  contrast  to  his  long,  full  beard,  turning 
white;  his  complexion  is  fair,  white  and  red,  and 
his  eyes  are  remarkably  pleasant  and  benignant. 

The  languages  at  the  command  of  the  Patriarch 
are  two,  the  Armenian  and  the  Turkish,  and  we 
were  obliged  to  communicate  with  him  through  the 
medium  of  the  latter,  Abd-el-Atti  acting  as  inter- 
preter. How  much  Turkish  our  dragoman  knew, 
and  how  familiar  his  holiness  is  with  it,  we  could 
not  tell,  but  the  conversation  went  on  briskly,  as 
it  always  does  when  Abd-el-Atti  has  control  of  it. 
When  we  had  exhausted  what  the  Patriarch  knew 
about  America  and  what  we  knew  about  Armenia, 
which  did  not  take  long  (it  was  astonishing  how 
few  things  in  all  this  world  of  things  we  knew  in 
common),  we  directed  the  conversation  upon  what 
we  supposed  would  be  congenial  and  common 
ground,  the  dogma  of  the  Trinity  and  the  point  of 
difference  between  the  Armenian  and  the  Latin 
Church.  I  cannot  say  that  we  acquired  much  light 
on  the  subject,  though  probably  we  did  better  than 
disputants  usually  do  on  this  topic.  We  had  some 
signal  advantages.  The  questions  and  answers, 
strained  through  the  Turkish  language,  were 
robbed  of  all  salient  and  noxious  points,  and  solved 
themselves  without  difficulty.  Thus,  the  "  Filio- 
que  clause "  offered  no  subtle  distinctions  to  the 
Moslem  mind  of  Abd-el-Atti,  and  he  presented  it 
to  the  Patriarch,  I  have  no  doubt,  with  perfect 
clarity.  At  any  rate,  the  reply  was  satisfactory :  — 


STRAINED   THEOLOGY  211 

"His  excellency,  he  much  oblige,  and  him  say 
he  t'ink  so." 

The  elucidation  of  this  point  was  rendered  the 
easier,  probably,  by  the  fact  that  neither  Abd-el- 
Atti  nor  the  Patriarch  nor  ourselves  knew  much 
about  it.  When  I  told  his  highness  (if,  through 
Abd-el-Atti,  I  did  tell  him)  that  the  great  Arme- 
nian convent  at  Venice,  which  holds  with  the  Pope, 
accepts  the  Latin  construction  of  the  clause,  he 
seemed  never  to  have  heard  of  the  great  Armenian 
convent  at  Venice.  At  this  point  of  the  conver- 
sation we  thought  it  wise  to  finish  the  subject  by 
•the  trite  remark  that  we  believed  a  man's  life  was 
after  all  more  important  than  his  creed. 

"So  am  I,"  responded  the  dragoman,  and  the 
Patriarch  seemed  to  be  of  like  mind. 

A  new  turn  was  given  to  our  interview  by  the 
arrival  of  refreshments,  a  succession  of  sweetmeats, 
cordials,  candies,  and  coffee.  The  sweetmeats  first 
served  were  a  delicate  preserve  of  plums.  This 
was  handed  around  in  a  jar,  from  which  each  guest 
dipped  a  spoonful,  and  swallowed  it,  drinking  from 
a  glass  of  water  immediately,  —  exactly  as  we  used 
to  take  medicine  in  childhood.  The  preserve  was 
taken  away  when  each  person  had  tasted  it,  and 
shortly  a  delicious  orange  cordial  was  brought,  and 
handed  around  with  candy.  Coffee  followed.  The 
Patriarch  then  led  the  way  about  his  palace,  and 
with  some  pride  showed  us  the  gold  and  silver  in- 
signia of  his  office  and  his  rich  vestments.  On 
the  wall  of  his  study  hung  a  curious  map  of  the 
world,  printed  at  Amsterdam  in  1G92,  in  Arme- 


212  THE   FAIR  OF  MOSES 

nian  characters.  He  was  so  kind  also  as  to  give 
us  his  photograph,  enriched  with  his  unreadable 
autograph,  and  a  book  printed  at  the  convent,  en- 
titled Deux  Ans  de  Sejour  en  Abyssinie  ;  and  we 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  also  the  heroes  and  the 
author  of  the  book,  —  two  Armenian  monks,  who 
undertook,  on  an  English  suggestion,  a  mission  to 
King  Theodore,  to  intercede  for  the  release  of  the 
English  prisoners  held  by  the  tyrant  of  that  land. 
They  were  detained  by  its  treacherous  and  bar- 
barous chiefs,  robbed  by  people  and  priests  alike, 
never  reached  the  headquarters  of  the  king,  and 
were  released  only  after  two  years  of  miserable 
captivity  and  suffering.  This  book  is  a  faithful 
record  of  their  journey,  and  contains  a  complete 
description  of  the  religion  and  customs  of  the 
Abyssinians,  set  down  with  the  candor  and  verbal 
nakedness  of  Herodotus.  Whatever  Christianity 
the  Abyssinians  may  once  have  had,  their  religion 
now  is  an  odd  mixture  of  Judaism,  fetichism,  and 
Christian  dogmas,  and  their  morals  a  perfect  re- 
production of  those  in  vogue  just  before  the  flood ; 
there  is  no  vice  or  disease  of  barbarism  or  of  civ- 
ilization that  is  not  with  them  of  universal  accept- 
ance. And  the  priest  Timotheus,  the  writer  of 
this  narrative,  gave  the  Abyssinians  abiding  in 
Jerusalem  a  character  no  better  than  that  of  their 
countrymen  at  home. 

The  Patriarch,  with  many  expressions  of  civility, 
gave  us  into  the  charge  of  a  monk,  who  showed  us 
all  the  parts  of  the  convent  we  had  not  seen  on  a 
previous  visit.  The  convent  is  not  only  a  wealthy 


A  MARVELOUS  SPECTACLE        213 

and  clean,  but  also  an  enlightened  establishment. 
Within  its  precincts  are  nuns  as  well  as  monks, 
and  good  schools  are  maintained  for  children  of 
both  sexes.  The  school-house,  with  its  commodi- 
ous apartments,  was  not  unlike  one  of  our  build- 
ings for  graded  schools ;  in  the  rooms  we  saw  many 
cases  of  antiquities  and  curiosities  from  various 
countries,  and  specimens  of  minerals.  A  map 
which  hung  on  the  wall,  and  was  only  one  hundred 
years  old,  showed  the  Red  Sea  flowing  into  the 
Dead  Sea,  and  the  river  Jordan  emptying  into  the 
Mediterranean.  Perhaps  the  scholars  learn  an- 
cient geography  only. 

At  twelve  the  Moslems  said  prayers  in  the 
Mosque  of  Omar,  and  at  one  o'clock  the  procession 
was  ready  to  move  out  of  St.  Stephen's  Gate.  We 
rode  around  to  that  entrance.  The  spectacle  spread 
before  us  was  marvelous.  All  the  gray  and  ragged 
slopes  and  ravines  were  gay  with  color  and  lively 
with  movement.  The  city  walls  on  the  side  over- 
looking the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat  were  covered 
with  masses  of  people,  clinging  to  them  like  bees ; 
so  the  defenses  may  have  appeared  to  Titus  when 
he  ordered  the  assault  from  the  opposite  hill.  The 
sunken  road  leading  from  St.  Stephen's  Gate, 
down  which  the  procession  was  to  pass,  was  lined 
with  spectators,  seated  in  ranks  on  ranks  on  the 
stony  slopes.  These  were  mostly  women,  —  this 
being  one  of  the  few  days  upon  which  the  Moslem 
women  may  freely  come  abroad,  —  clad  in  pure 
white,  and  with  white  veils  drawn  about  their 
heads.  These  clouds  of  white  robes  were  relieved 


214  THE   FAIR  OF  MOSES 

here  and  there  by  flaming  spots  of  color,  for  the 
children  and  slaves  accompanied  the  women,  and 
their  dress  added  blue  and  red  and  yellow  to  the 
picture.  Men  also  mingled  in  the  throng,  display- 
ing turbans  of  blue  and  black  and  green  and  white. 
One  could  not  say  that  any  color  or  nationality  was 
wanting  in  the  spectacle.  Sprinkled  in  groups  all 
over  the  hillside,  in  the  Moslem  cemetery  and  be- 
neath it,  were  like  groups  of  color,  and  streaks  of 
it  marked  the  descent  of  every  winding  path.  The 
Prince  of  Oldenburg,  the  only  foreign  dignitary 
present,  had  his  tents  pitched  upon  a  knoll  outside 
the  gate,  and  other  tents  dotted  the  roadside  and 
the  hill. 

Crowds  of  people  thronged  both  sides  of  the  road 
to  the  Mount  of  Olives  and  to  Gethsemane,  spread- 
ing themselves  in  the  valley  and  extending  away 
up  the  road  of  the  Triumphal  Entry;  everywhere 
were  the  most  brilliant  effects  of  white,  red,  yel- 
low, gray,  green,  black,  and  striped  raiment:  no 
matter  what  these  Orientals  put  on,  it  becomes  pic- 
turesque, —  old  coffee-bags,  old  rags  and  carpets, 
anything.  There  could  not  be  a  finer  place  for  a 
display  than  these  two  opposing  hillsides,  the  nar- 
row valley,  and  the  winding  roads,  which  increased 
the  apparent  length  of  the  procession  and  set  it  off 
to  the  best  advantage.  We  were  glad  of  the  op- 
portunity to  see  this  ancient  valley  of  bones  revived 
in  a  manner  to  recall  the  pageants  and  shows  of 
centuries  ago,  and  as  we  rode  down  the  sunken  road 
in  advance  of  the  procession,  we  imagined  how  we 
might  have  felt  if  we  had  been  mounted  on  horses 


AN   ORIENTAL   PROCESSION  215 

or  elephants  instead  of  donkeys,  and  if  we  had 
been  conquerors  leading  a  triumph,  and  these  peo- 
ple on  either  hand  had  been  cheering  us  instead 
of  jeering  us.  Turkish  soldiers,  stationed  every 
thirty  paces,  kept  the  road  clear  for  the  expected 
cavalcade.  In  order  to  see  it  and  the  spectators  to 
the  best  advantage,  we  took  position  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  valley  and  below  the  road  around 
the  Mount  of  Olives. 

The  procession  was  a  good  illustration  of  the 
shallow  splendor  of  the  Orient;  it  had  no  order, 
no  uniformity,  no  organization;  it  dragged  itself 
along  at  the  whim  of  its  separate  squads.  First 
came  a  guard  of  soldiers,  then  a  little  huddle  of 
men  of  all  sorts  of  colors  and  apparel,  bearing  sev- 
eral flags,  among  them  the  green  Flag  of  Moses ; 
after  an  interval  another  squad,  bearing  large  and 
gorgeous  flags,  preceded  by  musicians  beating 
drums  and  cymbals.  In  front  of  the  drums  danced, 
or  rather  hitched  forward  with  stately  steps,  two 
shabby  fellows,  throwing  their  bodies  from  side  to 
side  and  casting  their  arms  about,  clashing  cym- 
bals and  smirking  with  infinite  conceit.  At  long 
intervals  came  other  like  bands,  with  flags  and 
music,  in  such  disorder  as  scarcely  to  be  told  from 
the  spectators,  except  that  they  bore  guns  and  pis- 
tols, which  they  continually  fired  into  the  air  and 
close  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd,  with  a  reckless 
profusion  of  powder  and  the  most  murderous  ap- 
pearance. To  these  followed  mounted  soldiers  in 
white,  with  a  Turkish  band  of  music,  —  worse  than 
any  military  band  in  Italy;  and  after  this  the 


216  THE  FAIR   OF   MOSES 

pasha,  the  governor  of  the  city,  a  number  of  civil 
and  military  dignitaries  and  one  or  two  high  ule- 
mas,  and  a  green-clad  representative  of  the  Pro- 
phet, —  a  beggar  on  horseback,  —  on  fiery  horses 
which  curveted  about  in  the  crowd,  excited  by  the 
guns,  the  music,  and  the  discharge  of  a  cannon 
now  and  then,  which  was  stationed  at  the  gate  of 
St.  Stephen.  Among  the  insignia  displayed  were 
two  tall  instruments  of  brass,  which  twirled  and 
glittered  in  the  sun,  not  like  the  golden  candlestick 
of  the  Jews,  nor  the  "host"  of  the  Catholics,  nor 
the  sistrum  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  but,  per- 
haps, as  Moslemism  is  a  reminiscence  of  all  reli- 
gions, a  caricature  of  all  three. 

The  crush  in  the  narrow  road  round  the  hill  and 
the  grouping  of  all  the  gorgeous  banners  there  pro- 
duced a  momentary  fine  effect ;  but  generally,  save 
for  the  spectators,  the  display  was  cheap  and  child- 
ish. Only  once  did  we  see  either  soldiers  or  civil- 
ians marching  in  order;  there  were  five  fellows  in 
line  carrying  Nubian  spears,  and  also  five  sappers 
and  miners  in  line,  wearing  leathern  aprons  and 
bearing  theatrical  battle-axes.  As  to  the  arms,  we 
could  discover  no  two  guns  of  the  same  pattern  in 
all  the  multitude  of  guns;  like  most  things  in  the 
East,  the  demonstration  was  one  of  show,  color, 
and  noise,  not  to  be  examined  too  closely,  but  to 
be  taken  with  faith,  as  we  eat  dates.  A  company 
of  Sheridan's  cavalry  would  have  scattered  the 
entire  army. 

The  procession,  having  halted  on  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  countermarched  and  returned;  but  the 


A   GORGEOUS   DEMONSTRATION  217 

Flag  of  Moses  and  its  guard  went  on  to  the  camp, 
at  his  tomb,  there  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  pil- 
grims on  the  Monday  following.  And  the  most 
gorgeous  Moslem  demonstration  of  the  year  was 
over. 


VIII 


DEPARTURE  FROM  JERUSALEM 

HE  day  came  to  leave  Jerusalem. 
Circumstances  rendered  it  impossible 
for  us  to  make  the  overland  trip  to 
Damascus  or  even  to  Haifa.  Our 
regret  that  we  should  not  see  Bethel,  Shechem, 
Samaria,  Nazareth,  and  the  Sea  of  Galilee  was 
somewhat  lessened  by  the  thought  that  we  knew 
the  general  character  of  the  country  and  the  vil- 
lages, by  what  we  had  already  seen,  and  that  ex- 
perience had  taught  us  the  inevitable  disenchant- 
ment of  seeing  the  historical  and  the  sacred  places 
of  Judsea.  It  is  not  that  one  visits  a  desert  and  a 
heap  of  ruins,  —  that  would  be  endurable  and  even 
stimulating  to  the  imagination;  but  every  locality 
which  is  dear  to  the  reader  by  some  divine  visi- 
tation, or  wonderful  by  some  achievement  of  hero 
or  prophet,  is  degraded  by  the  presence  of  sordid 
habitations,  and  a  mixed,  vicious,  and  unsavory 
population,  or  incrusted  with  the  most  puerile 
superstitions,  so  that  the  traveler  is  fain  to  con- 
tent himself  with  a  general  view  of  the  unchanged 
features  of  the  country.  It  must  be  with  a  certain 
feeling  of  humiliation  that  at  Nazareth,  for  in- 


Nazareth 


THE  TOURIST'S  DISAPPOINTMENT        219 

stance,  the  object  of  his  pilgrimage  is  belittled  to 
the  inspection  of  such  inventions  as  the  spot  upon 
which  the  Virgin  stood  when  she  received  the  an- 
nunciation, and  the  carpenter-shop  in  which  Joseph 
worked. 

At  any  rate,  we  let  such  thoughts  predominate, 
when  we  were  obliged  to  relinquish  the  overland 
journey.  And  whatever  we  missed,  I  flatter  my- 
self that  the  readers  of  these  desultory  sketches 
will  lose  nothing.  I  should  have  indulged  a  cer- 
tain curiosity  in  riding  over  a  country  as  rich  in 
memories  as  it  is  poor  in  aspect,  but  I  should  have 
been  able  to  add  nothing  to  the  minute  descrip- 
tions and  vivid  pictures  with  which  the  Christian 
world  is  familiar;  and,  if  the  reader  will  excuse 
an  additional  personal  remark,  I  have  not  had  the 
presumption  to  attempt  a  description  of  Palestine 
and  Syria  (which  the  volumes  of  Robinson  and 
Thompson  and  Porter  have  abundantly  given),  but 
only  to  make  a  record  of  limited  travel  and  obser- 
vation. What  I  most  regretted  was  that  we  could 
not  see  the  green  and  fertile  plain  of  Esdraelon, 
the  flower-spangled  meadow  of  Jezreel,  and  the 
forests  of  Tabor  and  Carmel,  —  seats  of  beauty 
and  of  verdure,  and  which,  with  the  plain  of 
Sharon,  might  serve  to  mitigate  the  picture  of  grim 
desolation  which  the  tourist  carries  away  from  the 
Holy  Land. 

Finally,  it  was  with  a  feeling  akin  to  regret  that 
we  looked  our  last  upon  gray  and  melancholy  Je- 
rusalem. We  had  grown  a  little  familiar  with  its 
few  objects  of  past  or  present  grandeur,  the  Sara- 


220  DEPARTURE   FROM   JERUSALEM 

cenic  walls  and  towers,  the  Temple  platform  and 
its  resplendent  mosque,  the  agglomeration  called 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  the  ruins  of  the 
palace  and  hospice  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John, 
the  massive  convents  and  hospices  of  various  na- 
tions and  sects  that  rise  amid  the  indistinguishable 
huddle  of  wretched  habitations,  threaded  by  filthy 
streets  and  noisome  gutters.  And  yet  we  confessed 
to  the  inevitable  fascination  which  is  always  exer- 
cised upon  the  mind  by  antiquity ;  the  mysterious 
attraction  of  association ;  the  undefinable  influence 
in  decay  and  desolation  which  holds  while  it  re- 
pels ;  the  empire,  one  might  say  the  tyranny,  over 
the  imagination  and  the  will  which  an  ancient  city 
asserts,  as  if  by  force  of  an  immortal  personality, 
compelling  first  curiosity,  then  endurance,  then 
sympathy,  and  finally  love.  Jerusalem  has  neither 
the  art,  the  climate,  the  antiquities,  nor  the  society 
which  draw  the  world  and  hold  it  captive  in  Rome, 
but  its  associations  enable  it  to  exercise,  in  a  de- 
gree, the  same  attraction.  Its  attraction  is  in  its 
historic  spell  and  name,  and  in  spite  of  the  mod- 
ern*city. 

Jerusalem,  in  fact,  is  incrusted  with  layer  upon 
layer  of  inventions,  the  product  of  credulity,  cun- 
ning, and  superstition ;  a  monstrous  growth,  always 
enlarging,  so  that  already  the  simple  facts  of  his- 
tory are  buried  almost  beyond  recognition  beneath 
this  mass  of  rubbish.  Perhaps  it  would  have  been 
better  for  the  growth  of  Christianity  in  the  world 
if  Jerusalem  had  been  abandoned,  had  become  like 
Carthage  and  Memphis  and  Tadmor  in  the  wilder- 


CHRISTIANITY   IN   JERUSALEM  221 

ness,  and  the  modern  pilgrim  were  free  to  choose 
his  seat  upon  a  fallen  wall  or  mossy  rock,  and 
reconstruct  for  himself  the  pageant  of  the  past, 
and  recall  that  Living  Presence,  undisturbed  by 
the  impertinences  which  belittle  the  name  of  reli- 
gion. It  has  always  been  held  well  that  the  place 
of  the  burial  of  Moses  was  unknown.  It  would 
perhaps  have  conduced  to  the  purity  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith  if  no  attempt  had  ever  been  made  to 
break  through  the  obscurity  which  rests  upon  the 
place  of  the  sepulchre  of  Christ.  Invention  has 
grown  upon  invention,  and  we  have  the  Jerusalem 
of  to-day  as  a  result  of  the  exaggerated  importance 
attached  to  the  localization  of  the  Divine  manifes- 
tation. Whatever  interest  Jerusalem  has  for  the 
antiquarian,  or  for  the  devout  mind,  it  is  undeni- 
able that  one  must  seek  in  other  lands  and  among 
other  peoples  for  the  robust  virtue,  the  hatred  of 
shams  and  useless  forms,  the  sweet  charity,  the 
invigorating  principles,  the  high  thinking,  and  the 
simple  worship  inculcated  by  the  Founder  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

The  horses  were  ready.  Jerusalem  had  just 
begun  to  stir;  an  itinerant  vender  of  coffee  had 
set  up  his  tray  on  the  street,  and  was  lustily  call- 
ing to  catch  the  attention  of  the  early  workmen,  or 
the  vagrants  who  pick  themselves  up  from  the 
doorsteps  at  dawn  and  begin  to  reconnoitre  for  the 
necessary  and  cheap  taste  of  coffee,  with  which  the 
Oriental  day  opens;  the  sky  was  overcast,  and  a 
drop  or  two  of  rain  fell  as  we  were  getting  into 
the  saddle,  but  "It  is  nothing,"  said  the  stirrup- 


222      DEPARTURE  PROM  JERUSALEM 

holder,  "it  goes  to  be  a  beautiful  time; "  and  so  it 
proved. 

Scarcely  were  we  outside  the  city  when  it  cleared 
superbly,  and  we  set  forward  on  our  long  ride  of 
thirty-six  miles,  to  the  sea-coast,  in  high  spirits. 
We  turned  to  catch  the  first  sunlight  upon  the  gray 
Tower  of  David,  and  then  went  gayly  on  over  the 
cool  free  hills,  inhaling  the  sparkling  air  and  the 
perfume  of  wild-flowers,  and  exchanging  greetings 
with  the  pilgrims,  Moslem  and  Christian,  who 
must  have  broken  up  their  camps  in  the  hills  at 
the  earliest  light.  There  are  all  varieties  of  na- 
tionality and  costume,  and  many  of  the  peaceful 
pilgrims  are  armed  as  if  going  to  a  military  ren- 
dezvous; perhaps  our  cavalcade,  which  is  also  an 
assorted  one  of  horses,  donkeys,  and  mules,  is  as 
amusing  as  any  we  meet.  I  am  certain  that  the 
horse  that  one  of  the  ladies  rides  is  unique,  a  mere 
framework  of  bones  which  rattle  as  he  agitates 
himself;  a  rear  view  of  the  animal,  and  his  twist- 
ing and  interlacing  legs,  when  he  moves  briskly, 
suggest  a  Chinese  puzzle. 

We  halted  at  the  outlet  of  Wady  'Aly,  where 
there  is  an  inn,  which  has  the  appearance  of  a 
Den  of  Thieves,  and  took  our  lunch  upon  some 
giant  rocks  under  a  fig-tree,  the  fruit  of  which  was 
already  half  grown.  Here  I  discovered  another 
black  calla,  and  borrowed  a  pick  of  the  landlord  to 
endeavor  to  dig  up  its  bulb.  But  it  was  impos- 
sible to  extract  it  from  the  rocks,  and  when  I  re- 
turned the  tool,  the  owner  demanded  pay  for  the 
use  of  it;  I  told  him  that  if  he  would  come  to 


THE   SARACEN    TOWER  223 

America,  I  would  lend  him  a  pick,  and  let  him  dig 
all  day  in  the  garden,  —  a  liberality  which  he  was 
unable  to  comprehend. 

By  four  o'clock  we  were  at  Ramleh,  and  turned 
aside  to  inspect  the  so-called  Saracen  tower;  it 
stands  upon  one  side  of  a  large  inclosure  of  walls 
and  arches,  an  extensive  ruin;  under  ground  are 
vaulted  constructions  apparently  extending  as  far 
as  the  ruins  above,  reminding  one  of  the  remains 
of  the  hospice  of  St.  John  at  Jerusalem.  In  its 
form  and  treatment  and  feeling  this  noble  tower  is 
Gothic,  and,  taking  it  in  connection  with  the  re- 
mains about  it,  I  should  have  said  it  was  of  Chris- 
tian construction,  in  spite  of  the  Arabic  inscription 
over  one  of  the  doorways,  which  might  have  been 
added  when  the  Saracens  took  possession  of  it; 
but  I  believe  that  antiquarians  have  decided  that 
the  tower  was  erected  by  Moslems.  These  are  the 
most  "rural"  ruins  we  had  seen  in  the  East;  they 
are  time-stained  and  weather -colored,  like  the  re- 
mains of  an  English  abbey,  and  stand  in  the  midst 
of  a  green  and  most  lovely  country;  no  sand,  no 
nakedness,  no  beggars.  Grass  fills  all  the  inclo- 
sure, and  grain-fields  press  close  about  it.  No 
view  could  be  more  enchanting  than  that  of  the 
tower  and  the  rolling  plain  at  that  hour:  the 
bloom  on  the  wheat-fields,  flecked  with  flaming 
poppies ;  the  silver  of  the  olive  groves ;  the  beds  of 
scarlet  anemones  and  yellow  buttercups,  blotch- 
ing the  meadows  with  brilliant  colors  like  a  pic- 
ture of  Turner;  the  soft  gray  hills  of  Judaea;  the 
steeples  and  minarets  of  the  city.  All  Ramleh  is 


224  DEPARTURE   PROM   JERUSALEM 

built  on  and  amid  ruins,  half -covered  arches  and 
vaults. 

Twilight  came  upon  us  while  we  were  yet  in  the 
interminable  plain,  but  Jaffa  announced  itself  by 
its  orange-blossoms  long  before  we  entered  its  strag- 
gling suburbs ;  indeed,  when  we  were  three  miles 
away,  the  odor  of  its  gardens,  weighted  by  the 
night-air,  was  too  heavy  to  be  agreeable.  At  a 
distance  this  odor  was  more  perceptible  than  in 
the  town  itself;  but  next  day,  in  the  full  heat  of 
the  sun,  we  found  it  so  overpowering  as  to  give  a 
tendency  to  headache. 


IX 


ALONG  THE  SYRIAN  COAST 

UR  only  business  in  Jaffa  being  to  get 
away  from  it,  we  impatiently  expected 
the  arrival  of  the  Austrian  Lloyd 
steamer  for  Beyrout,  the  Venus,  a  fickle 
and  unsteady  craft,  as  its  name  implies.  In  the 
afternoon  we  got  on  board,  taking  note  as  we  left 
the  land  of  the  great  stones  that  jut  out  into  the 
sea,  "  where  the  chains  with  which  Andromeda  was 
bound  have  left  their  footsteps,  which  attest  [says 
Josephus]  the  antiquity  of  that  fable."  The  Ve- 
nus, which  should  have  departed  at  three  o'clock, 
lay  rolling  about  amid  the  tossing  and  bobbing  and 
crushing  crowd  of  boats  and  barges  till  late  in  the 
evening,  taking  in  boxes  of  oranges  and  bags  of 
barley,  by  the  slow  process  of  hoisting  up  one  or 
two  at  a  time.  The  ship  was  lightly  loaded  with 
freight,  but  overrun  with  third-class  passengers, 
returning  pilgrims  from  Mecca  and  from  Jerusa- 
lem (whom  the  waters  of  the  Jordan  seemed  not 
to  have  benefited),  who  invaded  every  part  of  deck, 
cabin,  and  hold,  and  spreading  their  beds  under 
the  windows  of  the  cabins  of  the  first-class  pas- 
sengers, reduced  the  whole  company  to  a  common 


226  ALONG   THE   SYEIAN   COAST 

disgust.  The  light  load  caused  the  vessel  to  roll 
a  little,  and  there  was  nothing  agreeable  in  the 
situation. 

The  next  morning  we  were  in  the  harbor  of 
Haifa,  under  the  shadow  of  Mt.  Carmel,  and  rose 
early  to  read  about  Elijah,  and  to  bring  as  near  to 
us  as  we  could  with  an  opera-glass  the  convent  and 
the  scene  of  Elijah's  victory  over  the  priests  of 
Baal.  The  noble  convent  we  saw,  and  the  brow 
of  Carmel,  which  the  prophet  ascended  to  pray  for 
rain ;  but  the  place  of  the  miraculous  sacrifice  is 
on  the  other  side,  in  view  of  the  plain  of  Esdrae- 
lon,  and  so  is  the  plain  by  the  river  Kishon  where 
Elijah  slew  the  four  hundred  and  fifty  prophets  of 
Baal,  whom  he  had  already  mocked  and  defeated. 
The  grotto  of  Elijah  is  shown  in  the  hill,  and  the 
monks  who  inhabit  the  convent  regard  themselves 
as  the  successors  of  an  unbroken  succession  of  holy 
occupants  since  the  days  of  the  great  prophet. 
Their  sumptuous  quarters  would  no  doubt  excite 
the  indignation  of  Elijah  and  Elisha,  who  would 
not  properly  discriminate  between  the  modern 
reign  of  Mammon  and  the  ancient  rule  of  Baal. 
Haifa  itself  is  only  a  huddle  of  houses  on  the  beach. 
Ten  miles  across  the  curving  bay  we  saw  the  bat- 
tlements of  Akka,  on  its  triangle  of  land  jutting 
into  the  sea,  above  the  mouth  of  Kishon,  out  of 
the  fertile  and  world-renowned  plain.  We  see  it 
more  distinctly  as  we  pass ;  and  if  we  were  to  land 
we  should  see  little  more,  for  few  fragments  remain 
to  attest  its  many  masters  and  strange  vicissitudes. 
A  prosperous  seat  of  the  Phoenicians,  it  offered 


TYRE  227 

hospitality  to  the  fat-loving  tribe  of  Asher ;  it  was 
a  Greek  city  of  wealth  and  consequence ;  it  was 
considered  the  key  of  Palestine  during  the  Cru- 
sades, and  the  headquarters  of  the  Templars  and 
the  Knights  of  St.  John;  and  in  more  modern 
times  it  had  the  credit  of  giving  the  checkmate  to 
the  feeble  imitation  of  Alexander  in  the  East  at- 
tempted by  Napoleon  I. 

The  day  was  cloudy  and  a  little  cool,  and  not 
unpleasant;  but  there  existed  all  day  a  ground- 
swell  which  is  full  of  all  nastiness,  and  a  short  sea 
which  aggravated  the  ground-swell;  and  although 
we  sailed  by  the  Lebanon  mountains  and  along  an 
historic  coast,  bristling  with  suggestions,  and  with 
little  but  suggestions,  of  an  heroic  past,  by  Akka 
and  Tyre  and  Sidon,  we  were  mostly  indifferent 
to  it  all.  The  Mediterranean,  on  occasion,  takes 
away  one's  appetite  even  for  ruins  and  ancient 
history. 

We  can  distinguish,  as  we  sail  by  it,  the  mean 
modern  town  which  wears  still  the  royal  purple 
name  of  Tyre,  and  the  peninsula,  formerly  the 
island,  upon  which  the  old  town  stood  and  which 
gave  it  its  name.  The  Arabs  still  call  it  Tsur  or 
Sur,  "the  rock,"  and  the  ancients  fancied  that  this 
island  of  rock  had  the  form  of  a  ship  and  was  typ- 
ical of  the  maritime  pursuits  of  its  people.  Some 
have  thought  it  more  like  the  cradle  of  commerce 
which  Tyre  is  sometimes,  though  erroneously,  said 
to  be;  for  she  was  only  the  daughter  of  Sidon, 
and  did  but  inherit  from  her  mother  the  secret  of 
the  mastery  of  the  seas.  There  were  two  cities  of 


228  ALONG  THE  SYRIAN   COAST 

Tyre,  —  the  one  on  the  island,  and  another  on  the 
shore.  Tyre  is  not  an  old  city  in  the  Eastern 
reckoning,  the  date  of  its  foundation  as  a  great 
power  only  rising  to  about  1200  B.  c.,  about  the 
time  of  the  Trojan  war,  and  after  the  fall  of 
Sidon,  although  there  was  a  city  there  a  couple  of 
centuries  earlier,  when  Joshua  and  his  followers 
conquered  the  hill-countries  of  Palestine ;  it  could 
never  in  its  days  of  greatness  have  been  large, 
probably  containing  not  more  than  30,000  to 
40,000  inhabitants,  but  its  reputation  was  dispro- 
portionate to  its  magnitude;  Joshua  calls  it  the 
"strong  city  Tyre,"  and  it  had  the  entire  respect 
of  Jerusalem  in  the  most  haughty  days  of  the  lat- 
ter. Tyre  seems  to  have  been  included  in  the  "in- 
heritance" allotted  to  Asher,  but  that  luxurious 
son  of  Jacob  yielded  to  the  Pho3nicians  and  not 
they  to  him;  indeed,  the  parceling  of  territory  to 
the  Israelitish  tribes,  on  condition  that  they  would 
conquer  it,  recalls  the  liberal  dying  bequest  made 
by  a  tender  Virginian  to  his  son,  of  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars  if  he  could  make  it.  The  sea- 
coast  portion  of  the  Canaanites,  or  the  Phrenicians, 
was  never  subdued  by  the  Jews;  it  preserved  a 
fortunate  independence,  in  order  that,  under  the 
Providence  that  protected  the  Phoanicians,  after 
having  given  the  world  "letters  "  and  the  first  im- 
pulse of  all  the  permanent  civilization  that  written 
language  implies,  they  could  still  bless  it  by  teach- 
ing it  commerce,  and  that  wide  exchange  of  pro- 
ducts which  is  a  practical  brotherhood  of  man. 
The  world  was  spared  the  calamity  of  the  descent 


ARTS    OF   THE   PHCENICIANS  229 

of  the  tribes  of  Israel  upon  the  Phoenician  cities 
of  the  coast,  and  art  was  permitted  to  grow  with 
industry;  unfortunately  the  tribes  who  formed  the 
kingdom  of  Israel  were  capable  of  imitating  only 
the  idolatrous  worship  and  the  sensuality  of  their 
more  polished  neighbors.  Such  an  ascendency  did 
Tyre  obtain  in  Jewish  affairs  through  the  princess 
Jezebel  and  the  reception  of  the  priests  of  Baal, 
that  for  many  years  both  Samaria  and  Jerusalem 
might  almost  be  called  dependencies  of  the  city  of 
the  god,  "the  lord  Melkarth,  Baal  of  Tyre." 

The  arts  of  the  Phoenicians  the  Jews  were  not 
apt  to  learn;  the  beautiful  bronze- work  of  their 
temples  was  executed  by  Tyrians,  and  their  curi- 
ous work  in  wood  also;  the  secret  of  the  famous 
purple  dye  of  the  royal  stuffs  which  the  Jews  cov- 
eted was  known  only  to  the  Tyrians,  who  extracted 
from  a  sea-mussel  this  dark  red  violet;  when  the 
Jews  built,  Tyrian  workmen  were  necessary ;  when 
Solomon  undertook  his  commercial  ventures  into 
the  far  Orient,  it  was  Tyrians  who  built  his  ships 
at  Ezion-geber,  and  it  was  Tyrian  sailors  who 
manned  them;  the  Phoenicians  carried  the  manu- 
facture of  glass  to  a  perfection  unknown  to  the  an- 
cient Egyptians,  producing  that  beautiful  ware  the 
art  of  which  was  revived  by  the  Venetians  in  the 
sixteenth  century;  the  Jews  did  not  learn  from 
the  Phoenicians,  but  the  Greeks  did,  how  to  make 
that  graceful  pottery  and  to  paint  the  vases  which 
are  the  despair  of  modern  imitators;  the  Tyrian 
mariners,  following  the  Sidonian,  supplied  the 
Mediterranean  countries,  including  Egypt,  with 


230  ALONG  THE   SYRIAN   COAST 

tin  for  the  manufacture  of  bronze,  by  adventurous 
voyages  as  far  as  Britain,  and  no  people  ever  ex- 
celled them  in  the  working  of  bronze,  as  none  in 
their  time  equaled  them  in  the  carving  of  ivory, 
the  engraving  of  precious  metals,  and  the  cutting 
and  setting  of  jewels. 

Unfortunately,  scarcely  anything  remains  of  the 
abundant  literature  of  the  Phosnicians,  —  for  the 
Canaanites  were  a  literary  people  before  the  inva- 
sion of  Joshua;  their  language  was  Semitic,  and 
almost  identical  with  the  Hebrew,  although  they 
were  descendants  of  Ham;  not  only  their  light 
literature,  but  their  historical  records  have  dis- 
appeared, and  we  have  small  knowledge  of  their 
kings  or  their  great  men.  The  one  we  are  most 
familiar  with  is  the  shrewd  and  liberal  Hiram  (I 
cannot  tell  why  he  always  reminds  me  of  General 
Grant),  who  exchanged  riddles  with  Solomon,  and 
shared  with  the  mountain  king  the  profits  of  his 
maritime  skill  and  experience.  Hiram's  tomb  is 
still  pointed  out  to  the  curious,  at  Tyre ;  and  the 
mutations  of  religions  and  the  freaks  of  fortune 
are  illustrated  by  the  chance  that  has  grouped  so 
closely  together  the  graves  of  Hiram,  of  Fred- 
erick Barbarossa,  and  of  Origen. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  came  in  sight  of  Sidon, 
that  ancient  city  which  the  hand-book  infers  was 
famous  at  the  time  of  the  appearance  of  Joshua, 
since  that  skillful  captain  speaks  of  it  as  "  Great 
Zidon."  Famous  it  doubtless  had  been  long  be- 
fore his  arrival,  but  the  epithet  "great"  merely 
distinguished  the  two  cities ;  for  Sidon  was  divided 


SIDON  231 

like  Tyre,  "Great  Sidon"  being  on  the  shore  and 
"Little  Sidon"  at  some  distance  inland.  Tradi- 
tion says  it  was  built  by  Sidon,  the  great-grandson 
of  Noah ;  but  however  this  may  be,  it  is  doubtless 
the  oldest  Phoenician  city  except  Gebel,  which  is 
on  the  coast  north  of  Beyrout.  It  is  now  for  the 
antiquarian  little  more  than  a  necropolis,  and  a 
heap  of  stones,  on  which  fishermen  dry  their  nets, 
although  some  nine  to  ten  thousand  people  occupy 
its  squalid  houses.  What  we  see  of  it  is  the  ridge 
of  rocks  forming  the  shallow  harbor,  and  the  pic- 
turesque arched  bridge  (with  which  engravings 
have  made  us  familiar)  that  connects  a  ruined  for- 
tress on  a  detached  rock  with  the  rocky  peninsula. 

Sidon  carries  us  far  back  into  antiquity.  When 
the  Canaanitish  tribes  migrated  from  their  seat  on 
the  Persian  Gulf,  a  part  of  them  continued  their 
march  as  far  as  Egypt.  It  seems  to  be  settled 
that  the  Hittites  (or  Khitas)  were  the  invaders  who 
overran  the  land  of  the  Pharaohs,  sweeping  away 
in  their  barbarous  violence  nearly  all  the  monu- 
ments of  the  civilization  of  preceding  eras,  and 
placing  upon  the  throne  of  that  old  empire  the 
race  of  Shepherd  kings.  It  was  doubtless  during 
the  dynasty  of  the  Shepherds  that  Abraham  visited 
Egypt,  and  it  was  a  Pharaoh  of  Hittite  origin  who 
made  Joseph  his  minister.  It  was  after  the  expul- 
sion  of  the  Shepherds  and  the  establishment  of  a 
dynasty  "which  knew  not  Joseph  "  that  the  Israel- 
ites were  oppressed. 

But  the  Canaanites  did  not  all  pass  beyond 
Syria  and  Palestine ;  some  among  them,  who  af- 


232  ALONG   THE    SYRIAN   COAST 

terwards  were  distinctively  known  as  Phoenicians, 
established  a  maritime  kingdom,  and  founded 
among  other  cities  that  of  Sidon.  This  maritime 
branch  no  doubt  kept  up  an  intercourse  with  the 
other  portions  of  the  Caananite  family  in  Southern 
Syria  and  in  Egypt,  before  the  one  was  driven  out 
of  Egypt  by  the  revolution  which  restored  the  rule 
of  the  Egyptian  Pharaohs,  and  the  other  expelled 
by  the  advent  of  the  Philistines.  And  it  seems 
altogether  probable  that  the  Pho3nicians  received 
from  Egypt  many  arts  which  they  afterwards  im- 
proved and  perfected.  It  is  tolerably  certain  that 
they  borrowed  from  Egypt  the  hieratic  writing, 
or  some  of  its  characters,  which  taught  them  to 
represent  the  sounds  of  their  language  by  the 
alphabet  which  they  gave  to  the  world.  The 
Sidonians  were  subjugated  by  Thotmes  III.,  with 
all  Phoenicia,  and  were  for  centuries  the  useful  al- 
lies of  the  Egyptians ;  but  their  dominion  was  over 
the  sea,  and  they  spread  their  colonies  first  to  the 
Grecian  isles  and  then  along  the  African  coast; 
and  in  the  other  direction  sent  their  venturesome 
barks  as  far  as  Colchis  on  the  Black  Sea.  They 
seem  to  have  thrived  most  under  the  Egyptian 
supremacy,  for  the  Pharaohs  had  need  of  their 
sailors  and  their  ships.  In  the  latter  days  of  the 
empire,  in  the  reign  of  Necho,  it  was  Phoenician 
sailors  who,  at  his  command,  circumnavigated 
Africa,  passing  down  the  Red  Sea  and  returning 
through  the  Pillars  of  Hercules. 

The  few  remains  of  Sidon  which  we  see  to-day 
are  only  a  few  centuries  old,  —  six  or  seven ;  there 


THE   PALESTINE   OF   ANTIQUITY  233 

are  no  monuments  to  carry  us  back  to  the  city 
famous  in  arts  and  arms,  of  which  Homer  sang; 
and  if  there  were,  the  antiquity  of  this  hoary  coast 
would  still  elude  us.  Herodotus  says  that  the 
temple  of  Melkarth  at  Tyre  (the  "daughter  of 
Sidon")  was  built  about  2300  B.  c.  Probably 
he  errs  by  a  couple  of  centuries ;  for  it  was  only 
something  like  twenty-three  centuries  before  Christ 
that  the  Canaanites  came  into  Palestine,  that  is  to 
say,  late  in  the  thirteenth  Egyptian  dynasty,  —  a 
dynasty  which,  according  to  the  list  of  Manetho 
and  Mariette  Bey,  is  separated  from  the  reign  of 
the  first  Egyptian  king  by  an  interval  of  twenty- 
seven  centuries.  When  Abraham  wandered  from 
Mesopotamia  into  Palestine  he  found  the  Canaan- 
ites in  possession.  But  they  were  comparatively 
new  comers ;  they  had  found  the  land  already  oc- 
cupied by  a  numerous  population  who  were  so  far 
advanced  in  civilization  as  to  have  built  many  cit- 
ies. Among  the  peoples  holding  the  land  before 
them  were  the  Rephaim,  who  had  sixty  strong 
towns  in  what  is  now  the  wilderness  of  Bashan; 
there  were  also  the  Emim,  the  Zamzummim,  and 
the  Anakim,  —  perhaps  primitive  races  and  per- 
haps conquerors  of  a  people  farther  back  in  the 
twilight,  remnants  of  whom  still  remained  in  Pal- 
estine when  the  Jews  began,  in  their  turn,  to  level 
its  cities  to  the  earth,  and  who  lived  in  the  Jewish 
traditions  as  "giants." 


BEYROUT.— OVER  THE  LEBANON 


LL  the  afternoon  we  had  the  noble 
range  of  Mt.  Lebanon  in  view,  and 
towards  five  o'clock  we  saw  the  desert- 
like  promontory  upon  which  Beyrout 
stands.  This  bold  headland,  however,  changed  its 
appearance  when  we  had  rounded  it  and  came  into 
the  harbor;  instead  of  sloping  sand  we  had  a  rocky 
coast,  and  rising  from  the  bay  a  couple  of  hundred 
feet,  Beyrout,  first  the  shabby  old  city,  and  then 
the  new  portion  higher  up,  with  its  villas,  embow- 
ered in  trees.  To  the  right,  upon  the  cliffs  over- 
looking the  sea,  is  the  American  college,  an  insti- 
tution whose  conspicuous  position  is  only  a  fair 
indication  of  its  preeminent  importance  in  the 
East;  and  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  it  does  not 
make  a  better  architectural  show.  Behind  Bey- 
rout, in  a  vast  circular  sweep,  rise  the  Lebanon 
mountains,  clothed  with  trees  and  vineyards,  ter- 
raced and  studded  with  villas  and  villages.  The 
view  is  scarcely  surpassed  anywhere  for  luxuriance 
and  variety.  It  seems  to  us  that  if  we  had  an  im- 
pulse to  go  on  a  mission  anywhere  it  would  be  to 
the  wicked  of  this  fertile  land. 


AT  THE  CUSTOM-HOUSE  235 

At  Beyrout  also  passengers  must  land  in  small 
boats.  We  were  at  once  boarded  by  the  most 
ruffianly  gang  of  boatmen  we  had  yet  seen,  who 
poured  through  the  gateways  and  climbed  over  the 
sides  of  the  vessel,  like  privileged  pirates,  tread- 
ing down  people  in  their  way.  It  was  only  after 
a  severe  struggle  that  we  reached  our  boats  and 
landed  at  the  custom-house,  and  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  legalized  plunderers,  who  made  an  attack 
upon  our  baggage  and  demanded  our  passports, 
simply  to  obtain  backsheesh  for  themselves. 

"Not  to  show  'em  passport,"  says  Abd-el-Atti, 
who  wastes  no  affection  on  the  Turks;  "tiefs,  all 
of  dem ;  you  be  six  months,  not  so  ?  in  him  domin- 
ion, come  now  from  Jaffa;  I  tell  him  if  the  kin'  of 
Constantinople  want  us,  he  find  us  at  the  hotel." 

The  hotel  Bellevue,  which  looks  upon  the  sea 
and  hears  always  the  waves  dashing  upon  the  worn 
and  jagged  rocks,  was  overflowed  by  one  of  those 
swarms,  which  are  the  nuisance  of  independent 
travelers,  known  as  a  "Cook's  Party,"  excellent 
people  individually  no  doubt,  but  monopolizing 
hotels  and  steamboats,  and  driving  everybody  else 
into  obscurity  by  reason  of  their  numbers  and  com- 
pact organization.  We  passed  yesterday  one  of 
the  places  on  the  coast  where  Jonah  is  said  to  have 
left  the  whale ;  it  is  suspected  —  though  without 
any  contemporary  authority  —  that  he  was  in  a 
Cook's  Party  of  his  day,  and  left  it  in  disgust  for 
this  private  conveyance. 

Our  first  care  in  Beyrout  was  to  secure  our  pas- 
sage to  Damascus.  There  is  a  carriage-road  over 


236  BEYBOUT 

the  Lebanons,  constructed,  owned,  and  managed 
by  a  French  company ;  it  is  the  only  road  in  Syria 
practicable  for  wheels,  but  it  is  one  of  the  best  in 
the  world ;  I  suppose  we  shall  celebrate  our  second 
centennial  before  we  have  one  to  compare  with  it 
in  the  United  States.  The  company  has  the  mo- 
nopoly of  all  the  traffic  over  it,  forwarding  freight 
in  its  endless  trains  of  wagons,  and  dispatching  a 
diligence  each  way  daily,  and  a  night  mail.  We 
went  to  the  office  to  secure  seats  in  the  diligence. 

"They  are  all  taken,"  said  the  official. 

"Then  we  would  like  seats  for  the  day  after 
to-morrow." 

"  They  are  taken,  and  for  the  day  after  that  — 
for  a  week." 

"Then  we  must  go  in  a  private  carriage." 

"At  present  we  have  none.  The  two  belonging 
to  the  company  are  at  Damascus." 

"Then  we  will  hire  one  in  the  city." 

"That  is  not  permitted;  no  private  carriage  is 
allowed  to  go  over  the  road  farther  than  five 
kilometres  outside  of  Beyrout." 

"  So  you  will  neither  take  us  yourselves  nor  let 
any  one  else?" 

"  Pardon ;  when  the  carriage  comes  from  Damas- 
cus, you  shall  have  the  first  chance." 

Fortunately  one  of  the  carriages  arrived  that 
night,  and  the  next  morning  at  nine  o'clock  we 
were  en  route.  The  diligence  left  at  four  A.  M., 
and  makes  the  trip  in  thirteen  hours ;  we  were  to 
break  the  journey  at  Stoura  and  diverge  to  Ba'al- 
bek.  The  carriage  was  a  short  omnibus,  with  seats 


A   SYRIAN   SUMMER   RESORT  237 

inside  for  four,  a  broad  seat  in  front,  and  a  deck 
for  the  baggage,  painted  a  royal  yellow;  three 
horses  were  harnessed  to  it  abreast,  —  one  in  the 
shafts  and  one  on  each  side.  As  the  horses  were 
to  be  changed  at  short  stages,  we  went  forward  at 
a  swinging  pace,  rattling  out  of  the  city  and  com- 
manding as  much  respect  as  if  we  had  been  the 
diligence  itself  with  its  six  horses,  three  abreast, 
and  all  its  haughty  passengers. 

We  leave  the  promontory  of  Beyrout,  dip  into 
a  long  depression,  and  then  begin  to  ascend  the 
Lebanon.  The  road  is  hard,  smooth,  white;  the 
soil  on  either  side  is  red;  the  country  is  exceed- 
ingly rich ;  we  pass  villas,  extensive  plantations  of 
figs,  and  great  forests  of  the  mulberry ;  for  the  silk 
culture  is  the  chief  industry,  and  small  factories 
of  the  famous  Syrian  silks  are  scattered  here  and 
there.  As  the  road  winds  upward,  we  find  the 
hillsides  are  terraced  and  luxuriant  with  fig-trees 
and  grapevines,  —  the  latter  flourishing,  in  fact, 
to  the  very  top  of  the  mountains,  say  5200  feet 
above  the  blue  Mediterranean,  which  sparkles 
below  us.  Into  these  hills  the  people  of  Beyrout 
come  to  pass  the  heated  months  of  summer,  living 
in  little  villas  which  are  embowered  in  foliage  all 
along  these  lovely  slopes.  We  encounter  a  new 
sort  of  house ;  it  is  one  story  high,  built  of  lime- 
stone in  square  blocks  and  without  mortar,  having 
a  flat  roof  covered  with  stones  and  soil,  —  a  very 
primitive  construction,  but  universal  here.  Some- 
times the  building  is  in  two  parts,  like  a  double 
log-cabin,  but  the  opening  between  the  two  is 


238  OVER   THE   LEBANON 

always  arched ;  so  much  for  art ;  but  otherwise  the 
house,  without  windows,  or  with  slits  only,  looks 
like  a  section  of  stone-wall. 

As  we  rise,  we  begin  to  get  glimpses  of  the 
snowy  peaks  which  make  a  sharp  contrast  with  the 
ravishing  view  behind  us,  —  the  terraced  gorges, 
the  profound  ravines,  the  vineyards,  gardens,  and 
orchards,  the  blue  sea,  and  the  white  road  winding 
back  through  all  like  a  ribbon.  As  we  look  down, 
the  limestone  walls  of  the  terraces  are  concealed, 
and  all  the  white  cliffs  are  hidden  by  the  ample 
verdure.  Entering  farther  into  the  mountains,  and 
ascending  through  the  grim  Wady  Hammana,  we 
have  the  considerable  village  of  that  name  below 
us  on  the  left,  lying  at  the  bottom  of  a  vast  and 
ash-colored  mountain  basin,  like  a  gray  heap  of 
cinders  on  the  edge  of  a  crater  broken  away  at  one 
side.  We  look  at  it  with  interest,  for  there  La- 
martine  once  lived  for  some  months  in  as  sentimen- 
tal a  seclusion  as  one  could  wish.  A  little  higher 
up  we  came  to  snow,  great  drifts  of  it  by  the  road- 
side, —  a  phenomenon  entirely  beyond  the  com- 
prehension of  Abdallah,  who  has  never  seen  sand 
so  cold  as  this,  which,  nevertheless,  melts  in  his 
hands.  After  encountering  the  snow,  we  drive 
into  a  cold  cloud,  which  seems  much  of  the  time  to 
hang  on  the  top  of  Lebanon,  and  have  a  touch  of 
real  winter,  —  a  disagreeable  experience  which  we 
had  hoped  to  eliminate  from  this  year;  snow  is 
only  tolerable  when  seen  at  a  great  distance,  as  the 
background  in  a  summer  landscape;  near  at  hand 
it  congeals  the  human  spirits. 


A   GLOWING   PICTURE  239 

When  we  were  over  the  summit  and  had 
emerged  from  the  thick  cloud,  suddenly  a  surprise 
greeted  us.  Opposite  was  the  range  of  Anti- 
Lebanon  ;  two  thousand  feet  below  us,  the  broad 
plain,  which  had  not  now  the  appearance  of  land, 
but  of  some  painted  scene,  —  a  singularity  which 
is  partially  explained  by  the  red  color  of  the  soil. 
But,  altogether,  it  presented  the  most  bewilder- 
ing mass  of  color;  if  the  valley  had  been  strewn 
with  watered  silks  over  a  carpet  of  Persian  rugs, 
the  effect  might  have  been  the  same.  There  were 
patches  and  strips  of  green  and  of  brown,  dashes 
of  red,  blotches  of  burnt-umber  and  sienna,  alter- 
nations of  ploughed  field  and  young  grain,  and  the 
whole,  under  the  passing  clouds,  took  the  sheen  of 
the  opal.  The  hard,  shining  road  lay  down  the 
mountain-side  in  long  loops,  in  ox-bows,  in  curves 
ever  graceful,  like  a  long  piece  of  white  tape  flung 
by  chance  from  the  summit  to  the  valley.  We 
dashed  down  it  at  a  great  speed,  winding  back- 
wards and  forwards  on  the  mountain-side,  and 
continually  shifting  our  point  of  view  of  the  glow- 
ing picture. 

At  the  little  post-station  of  Stoura,  we  left  the 
Damascus  road  and  struck  north  for  an  hour  to- 
wards Ba'albek,  over  a  tolerable  carriage-road. 
But  the  road  ceased  at  Mu'allakah;  beyond  that, 
a  horseback  journey  of  six  or  seven  hours,  there  is 
a  road-bed  to  Ba'albek,  stoned  a  part  of  the  way, 
and  intended  to  be  passable  some  day.  Mu'al- 
lakah lies  on  the  plain  at  the  opening  of  the  wild 
gorge  of  the  Berduny,  a  lively  torrent  which  dances 


240  OVER   THE   LEBANON 

down  to  join  the  Litany,  through  the  verdure  of 
fruit-trees  and  slender  poplars.  Over  a  mile  up 
the  glen,  in  the  bosom  of  the  mountains,  is  the 
town  of  Zahleh,  the  largest  in  the  Lebanon ;  and 
there  we  purposed  to  pass  the  night,  having  been 
commended  to  the  hospitality  of  the  missionaries 
there  by  Dr.  Jessup  of  Beyrout. 

Our  halted  establishment  drew  a  crowd  of  curi- 
ous spectators  about  it,  mostly  women  and  chil- 
dren, who  had  probably  never  seen  a  carriage  be- 
fore; they  examined  us  and  commented  upon  us 
with  perfect  freedom,  but  that  was  the  extent  of 
their  hospitality,  not  one  of  them  was  willing  to 
earn  a  para  by  carrying  our  baggage  to  Zahleh ; 
and  we  started  up  the  hill,  leaving  the  dragoman 
in  an  animated  quarrel  with  the  entire  population, 
who,  in  turn,  resented  his  comments  upon  their 
want  of  religion  and  good  manners. 

Climbing  up  a  stony  hill,  threading  gullies  and 
ravines,  and  finally  rough  streets,  we  came  into 
the  amphitheatre  in  the  hills  which  inclose  Zahleh. 
The  town  is  unique  in  its  construction.  Imagine 
innumerable  small  whitewashed  wooden  houses, 
rising  in  concentric  circles,  one  above  the  other, 
on  the  slopes  of  the  basin,  like  the  chairs  on  the 
terraces  of  a  Roman  circus.  The  town  is  mostly 
new,  for  the  Druses  captured  it  and  burned  it  in 
1860,  and  reminds  one  of  a  New  England  factory 
village.  Its  situation  is  a  stony,  ragged  basin, 
three  thousand  feet  above  the  sea;  the  tops  of  the 
hills  behind  it  were  still  covered  with  snow,  and 
we  could  easily  fancy  that  we  were  in  Switzerland. 


THE  AMERICAN  MISSIONARIES  241 

The  ten  or  twelve  thousand  inhabitants  are  nearly 
all  Maronites,  a  sect  of  Christians  whom  we  should 
call  Greeks,  but  who  are  in  communion  with  the 
Latin  Church ;  a  people  ignorant  and  superstitious, 
governed  by  their  priests,  occasionally  turbulent, 
and  always  on  the  point  of  open  rupture  with  the 
mysterious  and  subtle  Druses.  Having  the  name 
of  Christians  and  few  of  the  qualities,  they  are 
most  unpromising  subjects  of  missionary  labor. 
Yet  the  mission  here  makes  progress  and  converts, 
and  we  were  glad  to  see  that  the  American  mis- 
sionaries were  universally  respected. 

Fortunately  the  American  name  and  Christianity 
are  exceedingly  well  represented  in  Northern  Syria 
by  gentlemen  who  unite  a  thorough  and  varied 
scholarship  with  Christian  simplicity,  energy,  and 
enthusiasm.  At  first  it  seems  hard  that  so  much 
talent  and  culture  should  be  hidden  away  in  such  a 
place  as  Zahleh,  and  we  were  inclined  to  lament  a 
lot  so  far  removed  from  the  living  sympathies  of 
the  world.  It  seems,  indeed,  almost  hopeless  to 
make  any  impression  on  this  antique  and  conceited 
mass  of  superstition.  But  if  Syria  is  to  be  regen- 
erated, and  to  be  ever  the  home  of  an  industrious, 
clean,  and  moral  people,  in  sympathy  with  the 
enlightened  world,  the  change  is  to  be  made  by 
exhibiting  to  the  people  a  higher  type  of  Christian- 
ity than  they  have  known  hitherto,  —  a  Christian- 
ity that  reforms  manners,  and  betters  the  social 
condition,  and  adds  a  new  interest  to  life  by  lift- 
ing it  to  a  higher  plane ;  physical  conditions  must 
visibly  improve  under  it.  It  is  not  enough  in  a 


242  OVER   THE   LEBANON 

village  like  this  of  Zahleh,  for  instance,  to  set  up 
a  new  form  of  Christian  worship,  and  let  it  drone 
on  in  a  sleepy  fashion,  however  devout  and  cir- 
cumspect. It  needs  men  of  talent,  scientific  at- 
tainment, practical  sagacity,  who  shall  make  the 
Christian  name  respected  by  superior  qualities,  as 
well  as  by  devout  lives.  They  must  show  a  better 
style  of  living,  more  thrift  and  comfort,  than  that 
which  prevails  here.  The  people  will  by  and  by 
see  a  logical  connection  between  a  well-ordered 
house  and  garden,  a  farm  scientifically  cultivated, 
a  prosperous  factory,  the  profitableness  of  hon- 
esty and  industry,  and  the  superior  civilization 
of  our  Western  Christianity.  You  can  already 
see  the  influence  in  Syria  of  the  accomplished 
scholars,  skillful  physicians  and  surgeons,  men 
versed  in  the  sciences,  in  botany  and  geology,  who 
are  able  to  understand  the  resources  of  the  coun- 
try, who  are  supported  there,  but  not  liberally 
enough  supported,  by  the  Christians  of  America. 


XI 
BA'ALBEK 

E  were  entertained  at  the  house  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Wood,  who  accompanied  us 
the  next  day  to  Ba'albek,  his  mission 
territory  including  that  ancient  seat  of 
splendid  paganism.  Some  sort  of  religious  fete  in 
the  neighborhood  had  absorbed  the  best  saddle- 
beasts,  and  we  were  indifferently  mounted  on  the 
refuse  of  donkeys  and  horses,  Abdallah,  our  most 
shining  possession,  riding,  as  usual,  on  the  top  of 
a  pile  of  baggage.  The  inhabitants  were  very 
civil  as  we  passed  along ;  we  did  not  know  whether 
to  attribute  it  to  the  influence  of  the  missionaries 
or  to  the  rarity  of  travelers,  but  the  word  "back- 
sheesh''  we  heard  not  once  in  Zahleh. 

After  we  had  emerged  from  Mu'allakah  upon 
the  open  plain,  we  passed  on  our  left  hand  the 
Moslem  village  of  Kerah  Nun,  which  is  distin- 
guished as  the  burial-place  of  the  prophet  Noah ; 
but  we  contented  ourselves  with  a  sight  of  the 
dome.  The  mariner  lies  there  in  a  grave  seventy 
feet  long,  or  seventy  yards,  some  scoffers  say ;  but 
this,  whatever  it  is,  is  not  the  measure  of  the  patri- 
arch. The  grave  proved  too  short,  and  Noah  is 


244  BA'ALBEK 

buried  with  his  knees  bent,  and  his  feet  extending 
downward  in  the  ground. 

The  plain  of  Buka'a  is  some  ninety  miles  long, 
and  in  this  portion  of  it  about  ten  miles  broad ;  it 
is  well  watered,  and  though  the  red  soil  is  stuffed 
with  small  stones,  it  is  very  fertile,  and  would 
yield  abundantly  if  cultivated;  but  it  is  mostly 
an  abandoned  waste  of  weeds.  The  ground  rises 
gradually  all  the  way  to  Ba'albek,  starting  from  an 
elevation  of  three  thousand  feet;  the  plain  is  roll- 
ing, and  the  streams  which  rush  down  from  the 
near  mountains  are  very  swift.  Nothing  could  be 
lovelier  than  the  snowy  ranges  of  mountains  on 
either  hand,  in  contrast  with  the  browns  and  reds 
of  the  slopes,  —  like  our  own  autumn  foliage,  — 
and  the  green  and  brown  plain,  now  sprinkled 
with  wild-flowers  of  many  varieties. 

The  sky  was  covered  with  clouds,  great  masses 
floating  about ;  the  wind  from  the  hills  was  cold, 
and  at  length  drove  us  to  our  wraps ;  then  a  fine 
rain  ensued,  but  it  did  not  last  long,  for  the  rainy 
season  was  over.  We  crossed  the  plain  diago- 
nally, and  lunched  at  a  little  khan,  half  house  and 
half  stable,  raised  above  a  stream,  with  a  group 
of  young  poplars  in  front.  We  sat  on  a  raised 
divan  in  the  covered  court,  and  looked  out  through 
the  arched  doorway  over  a  lovely  expanse  of  plain 
and  hills.  It  was  difficult  to  tell  which  part  of 
the  house  was  devoted  to  the  stable  and  which  to 
the  family;  from  the  door  of  the  room  which  I 
selected  as  the  neatest  came  the  braying  of  a  don- 
key. The  landlord  and  his  wife,  a  young  woman 


THE   METAWILEH  245 

and  rather  pretty,  who  had  a  baby  in  her  arms, 
furnished  pipes  and  tobacco,  and  the  travelers  or 
idlers  —  they  are  one  —  sat  on  the  ground  smoking 
narghilehs.  A  squad  of  ruffianly  Metawileh,  a 
sect  of  Moslems  who  follow  the  Koran  strictly, 
and  reject  the  traditions,  —  perhaps  like  those  who 
call  themselves  Bible  Christians  in  distinction  from 
theological  Christians,  —  came  from  the  field,  de- 
posited their  ploughs,  which  they  carried  on  their 
shoulders,  on  the  platform  outside,  and,  seating 
themselves  in  a  row  in  the  khan,  looked  at  us  stol- 
idly. And  we,  having  the  opportunity  of  saying 
so,  looked  at  them  intelligently. 

We  went  on  obliquely  across  the  plain,  rising 
a  little  through  a  region  rich,  but  only  half  culti- 
vated, crossing  streams  and  floundering  in  mud- 
holes  for  three  hours,  on  a  walk,  the  wind  grow- 
ing stronger  from  the  snow  mountains,  and  the 
cold  becoming  almost  unendurable.  It  was  in  vain 
that  Abd-el-Atti  spun  hour  after  hour  an  Arab 
romance ;  not  even  the  warm  colors  of  the  Oriental 
imagination  could  soften  the  piteous  blast.  At 
length,  when  patience  was  nearly  gone,  in  a 
depression  in  the  plain,  close  to  the  foot-hills  of 
Anti-Lebanon,  behold  the  great  Ba'albek,  that  is  to 
say,  a  Moslem  village  of  three  thousand  to  four 
thousand  inhabitants,  fairly  clean  and  sightly,  and 
the  ruins  just  on  the  edge  of  it,  the  six  well-known 
gigantic  Corinthian  pillars  standing  out  against  the 
gray  sky.  Never  was  sight  more  welcome. 

Ba'albek,  like  Zahleh,  has  no  inn,  and  we  lodged 
in  a  private  house  near  the  ruins.  The  house  was 


246  BA'ALBEK 

one  story ;  it  consisted  of  four  large  rooms  in  a  row, 
looking  upon  the  stone-wall  inclosure,  each  with 
its  door,  and  with  no  communication  between  them. 
The  kitchen  was  in  a  separate  building.  These 
rooms  had  high  ceilings  of  beams  supporting  the 
flat  roof,  windows  with  shutters  but  without  glass, 
divans  along  one  side,  and  in  one  corner  a  fireplace 
and  chimney.  Each  room  had  a  niche  extending 
from  the  floor  almost  to  the  ceiling,  in  which  the 
beds  are  piled  in  the  daytime ;  at  night  they  are 
made  up  on  the  divans  or  on  the  floor.  This  is 
the  common  pattern  of  a  Syrian  house,  and  when 
we  got  a  fire  blazing  in  the  big  chimney -place  and 
began  to  thaw  out  our  stiff  limbs,  and  Abd-el- 
Atti  brought  in  something  from  the  kitchen  that 
was  hot  and  red  in  color  and  may  have  had  spice 
on  the  top  of  it,  we  found  this  the  most  comfort- 
able residence  in  the  world. 

It  is  the  business  of  a  dragoman  to  produce  the 
improbable  in  impossible  places.  Abd-el-Atti 
rubbed  his  lamp  and  converted  this  establishment 
into  a  tolerable  inn,  with  a  prolific  kitchen  and  an 
abundant  table.  While  he  was  performing  this 
revolution  we  went  to  see  the  ruins,  the  most  noble 
portions  of  which  have  survived  the  religion  and 
almost  the  memory  of  the  builders. 

The  remains  of  the  temples  of  Ba'albek,  or  Hie- 
ropolis,  are  only  elevated  as  they  stand  upon  an 
artificial  platform;  they  are  in  the  depression  of 
the  valley,  and  in  fact  a  considerable  stream  flows 
all  about  the  walls  and  penetrates  the  subterranean 
passages.  This  water  comes  from  a  fountain  which 


Ruins  of  the  Temple  of  Baal 


RELICS   OF   THE   PHOENICIANS  247 

bursts  out  of  the  Anti-Lebanon  hills  about  half  a 
mile  above  Ba'albek,  in  an  immense  volume,  falls 
into  a  great  basin,  and  flows  away  in  a  small  river. 
These  instantaneously  born  rivers  are  a  peculiarity 
of  Syria ;  and  they  often  disappear  as  suddenly  as 
they  come.  The  water  of  this  Ba'albek  fountain  is 
cold,  pure,  and  sweet;  it  deserves  to  be  called  a 
"beverage,"  and  is,  so  far  as  my  experience  goes, 
the  most  agreeable  water  in  the  world.  The  Mos- 
lems have  a  proverb  which  expresses  its  unique 
worth:  "The  water  of  Ba'albek  never  leaves  its 
home."  It  rushes  past  the  village  almost  a  river 
in  size,  and  then  disappears  in  the  plain  below  as 
suddenly  as  it  came  to  the  light  above. 

We  made  our  way  across  the  stream  and  along 
aqueducts  and  over  heaps  of  shattered  walls  and 
columns  to  the  west  end  of  the  group  of  ruins. 
This  end  is  defended  by  a  battlemented  wall  some 
fifty  feet  high,  which  was  built  by  the  Saracens 
out  of  incongruous  materials  from  older  construc- 
tions. The  northeast  corner  of  this  new  wall  rests 
upon  the  ancient  Phoenician  wall,  which  sustained 
the  original  platform  of  the  sacred  buildings ;  and 
at  this  corner  are  found  the  three  famous  stones 
which  at  one  time  gave  a  name,  "The  Three- 
Stoned,"  to  the  great  temple.  As  I  do  not  intend 
to  enter  into  the  details  of  these  often  described 
ruins,  I  will  say  here,  that  this  ancient  Plwenician 
wall  appears  on  the  north  side  of  the  platform 
detached,  showing  that  the  most  ancient  temple 
occupied  a  larger  area  than  the  Greek  and  Roman 
buildings. 


248  BA'ALBEK 

There  are  many  stones  in  the  old  platform  wall 
which  are  thirty  feet  long;  but  the  three  large 
ones,  which  are  elevated  twenty  feet  above  the 
ground,  and  are  in  a  line,  are  respectively  64  feet 
long,  63  feet  8  inches,  and  63  feet,  and  about  13 
feet  in  height  and  in  depth.  When  I  measured 
the  first  stone,  I  made  it  128  feet  long,  which  I 
knew  was  an  error,  but  it  was  only  by  careful 
inspection  that  I  discovered  the  joint  of  the  two 
stones  which  I  had  taken  for  one.  I  thought  this 
a  practical  test  of  the  close  fit  of  these  blocks, 
which,  laid  without  mortar,  come  together  as  if  the 
ends  had  been  polished.  A  stone  larger  than 
either  of  these  lies  in  the  neighboring  quarry,  hewn 
out  but  not  detached. 

These  massive  constructions,  when  first  rediscov- 
ered, were  the  subject  of  a  great  deal  of  wonder 
and  speculation,  and  were  referred  to  a  remote  and 
misty  if  not  fabulous  period.  I  believe  it  is  now 
agreed  that  they  were  the  work  of  the  Phoenicians, 
or  Canaanites,  and  that  they  are  to  be  referred  to 
a  period  subsequent  to  the  conquest  of  Egypt,  or  at 
least  of  the  Delta  of  Egypt,  by  the  Hittites,  when 
the  Egyptian  influence  was  felt  in  Syria ;  and  that 
this  Temple  of  the  Sun  was  at  least  suggested,  as 
well  as  the  worship  of  the  Sun  god  here,  by  the 
Temple  of  the  Sun  at  Heliopolis  on  the  Nile.  There 
is,  to  be  sure,  no  record  of  the  great  city  of  Ba'al- 
bek,  but  it  may  safely  be  referred  to  the  period  of 
the  greatest  prosperity  of  the  Phoenician  nation. 

Much  as  we  had  read  of  the  splendor  of  these 
ruins,  and  familiar  as  we  were  with  photographs  of 


SPLENDOR   OP   THE   RUINS  249 

them,  we  were  struck  with  surprise  when  we  climbed 
up  into  the  great  court,  that  is,  to  the  platform 
of  the  temples.  The  platform  extends  over  eight 
hundred  feet  from  east  to  west,  an  elevated  theatre 
for  the  display  of  some  of  the  richest  architecture 
in  the  world.  The  general  view  is  broad,  impres- 
sive, inspiring  beyond  anything  else  in  Egypt  or 
Syria ;  and  when  we  look  at  details,  the  ruins  charm 
us  with  their  beauty.  Round  three  sides  of  the 
great  court  runs  a  wall,  the  interior  of  which,  re- 
cessed and  niched,  was  once  adorned  with  the  most 
elaborate  carving  in  designs  more  graceful  than 
you  would  suppose  stone  could  lend  itself  to,  with 
a  frieze  of  garlands  of  vines,  flowers,  and  fruits. 
Of  the  so-called  great  Temple  of  Baal  at  the  west 
end  of  the  platform,  only  six  splendid  Corinthian 
columns  remain.  The  so-called  Temple  of  the  Sun 
or  Jupiter,  to  the  south  of  the  other  and  on  a  lower 
level,  larger  than  the  Parthenon,  exists  still  in 
nearly  its  original  form,  although  some  of  the  ex- 
terior columns  have  fallen,  and  time  and  the  art- 
hating  Moslems  have  defaced  some  of  its  finest 
sculpture.  The  ceiling  between  the  outer  row  of 
columns  and  the  wall  of  this  temple  is,  or  was,  one 
of  the  most  exquisite  pieces  of  stone -carving  ever 
executed;  the  figures  carved  in  the  medallions 
seem  to  have  anticipated  the  Gothic  genius,  and 
the  exquisite  patterns  in  stone  to  have  suggested 
the  subsequent  Saracenic  invention.  The  compos- 
ite capitals  of  the  columns  offer  an  endless  study : 
stone  roses  stand  out  upon  their  steins,  fruit  and 
flowers  hang  and  bloom  in  the  freedom  of  nature ; 


250  BA'ALBEK 

the  carving  is  all  bold  and  spirited,  and  the  inven- 
tion endless.  This  is  no  doubt  work  of  the  Roman 
period  after  the  Christian  era,  but  it  is  pervaded 
by  Greek  feeling,  and  would  seem  to  have  been 
executed  by  Greek  artists. 

In  the  centre  of  the  great  court  (there  is  a  small 
six-sided  court  to  the  east  of  the  larger  one,  which 
was  once  approached  by  a  great  'flight  of  steps  from 
below)  are  remains  of  a  Christian  basilica,  referred 
to  the  reign  of  Theodosius.  Underneath  the  plat- 
form are  enormous  vaults,  which  may  have  served 
the  successive  occupants  for  store-houses.  The 
Saracens  converted  this  position  into  a  fortress, 
and  this  military  impress  the  ruins  still  bear.  We 
have  therefore  four  ages  in  these  ruins :  the  Phreni- 
cian,  the  Greek  and  Roman,  the  Christian,  and  the 
Saracenic.  The  remains  of  the  first  are  most  en- 
during. The  old  builders  had  no  other  method 
of  perpetuating  their  memory  except  by  these 
cyclopean  constructions. 

We  saw  the  sunset  on  Ba'albek.  The  clouds 
broke  away  and  lay  in  great  rosy  masses  over  Leb- 
anon ;  the  white  snow  ridge  for  forty  miles  spar- 
kled under  them.  The  peak  of  Lebanon,  over 
ten  thousand  feet  above  us,  was  revealed  in  all  its 
purity.  There  was  a  red  light  on  the  columns 
and  on  the  walls,  and  the  hills  of  Anti-Lebanon, 
red  as  a  dull  garnet,  were  speckled  with  snow 
patches.  The  imagination  could  conceive  nothing 
more  beautiful  than  the  rose-color  of  the  ruins, 
the  flaming  sky,  and  the  immaculate  snow  peaks, 
apparently  so  close  to  us. 


THE   RUINS    BY   MOONLIGHT  251 

On  our  return  we  stopped  at  the  beautiful  cir- 
cular temple  of  Venus,  which  would  be  a  wonder 
in  any  other  neighborhood.  Dinner  awaited  us, 
and  was  marked  by  only  one  novelty,  —  what  we 
at  first  took  to  be  brown  napkins,  fantastically 
folded  and  laid  at  each  plate,  a  touch  of  elegance 
for  which  we  were  not  prepared.  But  the  napkins 
proved  to  be  bread.  It  is  made  of  coarse  dark 
wheat,  baked  in  circular  cakes  as  thin  as  brown 
paper,  and  when  folded  its  resemblance  to  a  nap- 
kin is  complete.  We  found  it  tolerably  palatable, 
if  one  could  get  rid  of  the  notion  that  he  was  eat- 
ing a  limp  rag.  The  people  had  been  advertised 
of  our  arrival,  and  men,  women,  and  boys  swarmed 
about  us  to  sell  copper  coins ;  most  of  them  Roman, 
which  they  find  in  the  ruins.  Few  are  found  of 
the  Greeks ;  the  Romans  literally  sowed  the  ground 
with  copper  money  wherever  they  went  in  the  Ori- 
ent. The  inhabitants  are  Moslems,  and  rather 
decent  in  appearance,  and  the  women  incline  to 
good  looks,  though  not  so  modest  in  dress  as  Mos- 
lem women  usually  are;  they  are  all  persistent 
beggars,  and  bring  babies  in  their  arms,  borrow- 
ing for  that  purpose  all  the  infants  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, to  incite  us  to  charity. 

We  yielded  to  the  average  sentiment  of  Christ- 
endom, and  sallied  out  in  the  cold  night  to  see  the 
ruins  under  the  light  of  a  full  moon ;  one  of  the 
party  going  simply  that  he  might  avoid  the  re- 
proach of  other  travelers,  "  It  is  a  pity  you  did  not 
see  Ba'albek  by  moonlight."  And  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  these  ruins  stand  the  dim  light  of  the 


252  BA'ALBEK 

moon  better  than  most  ruins ;  they  are  so  broad  and 
distinct  that  they  show  themselves  even  in  this  dis- 
advantage, which  those  of  Karnak  do  not.  The 
six  isolated  columns  seemed  to  float  in  the  sky; 
between  them,  snowy  Lebanon  showed  itself. 

The  next  morning  was  clear  and  sparkling;  the 
sky  was  almost  as  blue  as  it  is  in  Nubia.  We 
were  awakened  by  the  drumming  of  a  Moslem 
procession.  It  was  the  great  annual  fete  day, 
upon  which  was  to  be  performed  the  miracle  of 
riding  over  the  bodies  of  the  devout.  The  cere- 
mony took  place  a  couple  of  miles  away  upon  the 
hill,  and  we  saw  on  all  the  paths  leading  thither 
files  of  men  and  women  in  white  garments.  The 
sheykh,  mounted  on  horseback,  rides  over  the 
prostrate  bodies  of  all  who  throw  themselves  be- 
fore him,  and  the  number  includes  young  men  as 
well  as  darwishes.  As  they  lie  packed  close  to- 
gether and  the  horse  treads  upon  their  spinal  col- 
umns, their  escape  from  death  is  called  miracu- 
lous. The  Christians  tried  the  experiment  here  a 
year  or  two  ago,  several  young  fellows  submitting 
to  let  a  horseman  trample  over  them,  in  order  to 
show  the  Moslems  that  they  also  possessed  a  reli- 
gion which  could  stand  horses'  hoofs. 

The  ruins,  under  the  intense  blue  sky,  and  in 
the  splendid  sunlight,  were  more  impressive  than 
in  the  dull  gray  of  the  day  before,  or  even  in  the 
rosy  sunset ;  their  imperial  dignity  is  not  impaired 
by  the  excessive  wealth  of  ornamentation.  When 
upon  this  platform  there  stood  fifty-eight  of  these 
noble  columns,  instead  of  six,  conspicuous  from 


Ruins  of  Ba'  albck 


A    MARKED   CONTRAST  253 

afar,  and  the  sunlight  poured  into  this  superb 
court,  adorned  by  the  genius  of  Athens  and  the 
wealth  of  Rome,  this  must  have  been  one  of  the 
most  resplendent  temples  in  existence,  rivaling 
the  group  upon  the  Acropolis  itself.  Nothing 
more  marks  the  contrast  between  the  religions  of 
the  Greeks  and  Romans  and  of  the  Egyptians,  or 
rather  between  the  genius  of  the  two  civilizations, 
than  their  treatment  of  sacred  edifices.  And  it  is 
all  the  more  to  be  noted,  because  the  more  modern 
nations  accepted  without  reserve  any  god  or  object 
of  veneration  or  mystery  in  the  Egyptian  pantheon. 
The  Roman  occupants  of  the  temple  of  Philae  sacri- 
ficed without  scruple  upon  the  altars  of  Osiris,  and 
the  voluptuous  Graeco-Romans  of  Pompeii  built  a 
temple  to  Isis.  Yet  always  and  everywhere  the 
Grecians  and  the  Romans  sought  conspicuous  situa- 
tions for  the  temples  of  the  gods ;  they  felt,  as  did 
our  Pilgrim  Fathers,  who  planted  their  meeting- 
houses on  the  windiest  hills  of  New  England,  that 
the  deity  was  most  honored  when  the  house  of  his 
worship  was  most  visible  to  men;  but  the  Egyp- 
tians, on  the  contrary,  buried  the  magnificence  of 
their  temples  within  wall  around  wall,  and  permit- 
ted not  a  hint  of  their  splendor  to  the  world  out- 
side. It  is  worth  while  to  notice  also  that  the  As- 
syrians did  not  share  the  contemporary  reticence 
of  the  Egyptians,  but  built  their  altars  and  tem- 
ples high  above  the  plain  in  pyramidal  stages ;  and 
if  we  may  judge-  by  this  platform  at  Ba'albek,  the 
Phoenicians  did  not  imitate  the  exclusive  spirit  of 
the  Pharaonic  worshipers. 


254  BA'ALBEK 

We  lingered,  called  again  and  again  by  the  im- 
patient dragoman,  in  this  fascinating  spot,  amid 
the  visible  monuments  of  so  many  great  races, 
bearing  the  marks  of  so  many  religious  revolutions, 
and  turned  away  with  slow  and  reluctant  steps,  as 
those  who  abandon  an  illusion  or  have  not  yet 
thought  out  some  suggestion  of  the  imagination. 
We  turned  also  with  reluctance  from  a  real  illusion 
of  the  senses.  In  the  clear  atmosphere  the  ridge 
of  Lebanon  was  startlingly  near  to  us;  the  snow 
summit  appeared  to  overhang  Ba'albek  as  Vesuvius 
does  Pompeii;  and  yet  it  is  half  a  day's  journey 
across  the  plain  to  the  base  of  the  mountain,  and 
a  whole  day's  journey  from  these  ruins  to  the  sum- 
mit. But  although  this  illusion  of  distance  did 
not  continue  as  we  rode  down  the  valley,  we  had 
on  either  hand  the  snow  ranges  all  day,  making  by 
contrast  with  the  brilliant  colors  of  the  plain  a 
lovely  picture. 


XII 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  DAMASCUS 

HE  station  at  Stoura  is  a  big  stable  and 
a  dirty  little  inn,  which  has  the  kitchen 
in  one  shanty,  the  dining-room  in  an- 
other, and  the  beds  in  a  third ;  a  swift 
mountain  stream  runs  behind  it,  and  a  grove  of 
poplars  on  the  banks  moans  and  rustles  in  the  wind 
that  draws  down  the  Lebanon  gorge.  It  was 
after  dark  when  we  arrived,  but  whether  our  com- 
ing put  the  establishment  into  a  fluster,  I  doubt ; 
it  seems  to  be  in  a  chronic  state  of  excitement. 
The  inn  was  kept  by  Italians,  who  have  a  genius 
for  this  sort  of  hotel;  the  landlord  was  Andrea, 
but  I  suspect  the  real  authority  resided  in  his 
plump,  bright,  vivacious  wife.  They  had  an  heir, 
however,  a  boy  of  eight,  who  proved  to  be  the  ty- 
rant of  the  house  when  he  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
The  servants  were  a  tall,  slender  Syrian  girl,  an 
active  and  irresponsible  boy,  and  a  dark-eyed  little 
maid,  in  the  limp  and  dirty  single  garment  which 
orphans  always  wear  on  the  stage,  and  who  in 
fact  was  an  orphan,  and  appeared  to  take  the  full 
benefit  of  her  neglected  and  jolly  life.  The 
whole  establishment  was  on  a  lark,  and  in  a  per- 


256  ON   THE   ROAD   TO   DAMASCUS 

petual  giggle,  and  communicated  its  overflowing 
good-humor  even  to  tired  travelers.  The  well- 
favored  little  wife,  who  exhibited  the  extremes  of 
fortune  in  a  diamond  ring  and  a  torn  and  drag- 
gled calico  gown,  sputtered  alternately  French  and 
Italian  like  a  magpie,  laughed  with  a  contagious 
merriment,  and  actually  made  the  cheerless  accom- 
modations she  offered  us  appear  desirable.  The 
whole  family  waited  on  us,  or  rather  kept  us  wait- 
ing on  them,  at  table,  bringing  us  a  dish  now  and 
then  as  if  its  production  were  a  joke,  talking  all 
the  while  among  themselves  in  Arabic,  and  appar- 
ently about  us,  and  laughing  at  their  own  observa- 
tions, until  we,  even,  came  to  conceive  ourselves 
as  a  party  in  a  most  comical  light ;  and  so  amus- 
ing did  we  grow  that  the  slim  girl  and  the  sorry 
orphan  were  forced  to  rush  into  a  corner  every  few 
minutes  and  laugh  it  out. 

I  spent  a  pleasant  hour  in  the  kitchen,  —  an 
isolated,  smoke-dried  room  with  an  earth  floor,  — 
endeavoring  to  warm  my  feet  at  the  little  fires  of 
charcoal  kindled  in  holes  on  top  of  a  bank  of  earth 
and  stone,  and  watching  the  pranks  of  this  merry 
and  industrious  family.  The  little  heir  amused 
himself  by  pounding  the  orphan,  kicking  the  shins 
of  the  boy,  and  dashing  water  in  the  face  of  the 
slim  girl,  —  treatment  which  the  servants  dared 
not  resent,  since  the  father  laughed  over  it  as  an 
exhibition  of  bravery  and  vivacity.  Fragrant 
steam  came  from  a  pot,  in  which  quail  were  stew- 
ing for  the  passengers  by  the  night  mail,  and  each 
person  who  appeared  in  the  kitchen,  in  turn,  gave 


AN   ENCHANTING   HOUSEHOLD  257 

this  pot  a  stir ;  the  lively  boy  pounded  coffee  in  a 
big'  mortar,  put  charcoal  on  the  fire,  had  a  tussle 
with  the  heir,  threw  a  handspring,  doing  nothing 
a  minute  at  a  time ;  the  orphan  slid  in  with  a  bucket 
of  water,  slopping  it  in  all  directions ;  the  heir  set 
up  a  howl  and  kicked  his  father  because  he  was  not 
allowed  to  kick  the  orphan  any  more ;  the  little  wife 
came  in  like  a  breeze,  whisking  everybody  one  side, 
and  sympathized  with  dear  little  Robby,  whose 
cruel  and  ugly  papa  was  holding  the  love  from 
barking  his  father's  shins.  You  do  not  often  see 
a  family  that  enjoys  itself  so  much  as  this. 

It  was  late  next  morning  when  we  tore  ourselves 
from  this  enchanting  household,  and  went  at  a  good 
pace  over  the  fertile  plain,  straight  towards  Anti- 
Lebanon,  having  a  glimpse  of  the  snow  of  Mount 
Hermon,  —  a  long  ridge  peering  over  the  hills  to 
the  southeast,  and  crossing  in  turn  the  Litany  and 
the  deep  An  jar,  which  bursts  forth  from  a  single 
fountain  about  a  mile  to  the  north.  On  our  left 
we  saw  some  remains  of  what  was  once  a  capital 
city,  Chalcis,  of  unknown  origin,  but  an  old  city 
before  it  was  possessed  by  the  Ptolemies,  or  by 
Mark  Antony,  and  once  the  luxurious  residence  of 
the  Herod  family.  At  Medjel,  a  village  scattered 
at  the  foot  of  small  tells  rising  in  the  plain,  we 
turned  into  the  hills,  leaving  unvisited  a  conspicu- 
ous Roman  temple  on  a  peak  above  the  town .  The 
road  winds  gradually  up  a  wady.  As  we  left  the 
plain,  and  looked  back  across  it  to  Lebanon,  the 
colors  of  Buka'a  and  the  mountain  gave  us  a  new 
surprise ;  they  were  brilliant  and  yet  soft,  as  gay 


258  ON   THE   ROAD   TO    DAMASCUS 

and  splendid  as  the  rocks  of  the  Yellowstone,  and 
yet  exquisitely  blended  as  in  a  Persian  rug. 

The  hill-country  was  almost  uninhabited ;  except 
the  stations  and  an  occasional  Bedaween  camp 
there  was  small  sign  of  occupation;  the  ground 
was  uncultivated;  peasants  in  rags  were  grubbing 
up  the  roots  of  cedars  for  fuel.  We  met  Druses 
with  trains  of  mules,  Moslems  with  camels  and 
mules,  and  long  processions  of  white-topped  wag- 
ons,—  like  the  Western  "prairie  schooner," 
drawn  each  by  three  mules  tandem.  Thirty  and 
forty  of  these  freight  vehicles  travel  in  company, 
and  we  were  continually  meeting  or  passing  them ; 
their  number  is  an  indication  of  the  large  trade 
that  Damascus  has  with  Beyrout  and  the  Mediter- 
ranean. There  is  plenty  of  color  in  the  people  and 
in  their  costume.  We  were  told  that  we  could  dis- 
tinguish the  Druses  by  their  furtive  and  bad  coun- 
tenances; but  for  this  information  I  should  not 
have  seen  that  they  differed  much  from  the  Maro- 
nites;  but  I  endeavored  to  see  the  treacherous  vil- 
lain in  them.  I  have  noticed  in  Syria  that  the 
Catholic  travelers  have  a  good  opinion  of  the  Ma- 
ronites  and  hate  the  Druses,  that  the  American 
residents  think  little  of  the  Maronites,  and  that 
the  English  have  a  lenient  side  for  the  Druses. 
The  Moslems  consistently  despise  all  of  them.  The 
Druse  has  been  a  puzzle.  There  are  the  same  hor- 
rible stories  current  about  him  that  were  believed 
of  the  early  Christians ;  the  Moslem  believes  that 
infants  are  slain  and  eaten  in  his  midnight  assem- 
blies, and  that  once  a  year  the  Druse  community 


THE   DRUSES  259 

meets  in  a  cavern  at  midnight,  the  lights  are  extin- 
guished, and  the  sexes  mingling  by  chance  in  the 
license  of  darkness  choose  companions  for  the  year. 
But  the  Druse  creed,  long  a  secret,  is  now  known; 
they  are  the  disciples  of  Hakim,  a  Khalif  of  the 
Fatimite  dynasty ;  they  believe  in  the  unity  of  God 
and  his  latest  manifestation  in  Hakim;  they  are  as 
much  a  political  as  a  religious  society;  they  are 
accomplished  hypocrites,  cunning  in  plotting  and 
bold  in  action;  they  profess  to  possess  "the  truth," 
and  having  this,  they  are  indifferent  to  externals, 
and  are  willing  to  be  Moslems  with  the  Moslems 
and  Christians  with  the  Christians,  while  inwardly 
feeling  a  contempt  for  both.  They  are  the  most 
supercilious  of  all  the  Eastern  sects.  What  they 
are  about  to  do  is  always  the  subject  of  anxiety  in 
the  Lebanon  regions. 

At  the  stations  of  the  road  we  found  usually  a 
wretched  family  or  two  dwelling  in  a  shanty,  half 
stable  and  half  cafe,  always  a  woman  with  a  baby 
in  her  arms,  and  the  superabundant  fountains  for 
nourishing  it  displayed  to  all  the  world ;  generally 
some  slatternly  girls,  and  groups  of  rough  mule- 
teers and  drivers  smoking.  At  one,  I  remember  a 
Jew  who  sold  antique  gems,  rings,  and  coins,  with 
a  shocking  face,  which  not  only  suggested  the  first 
fall  of  his  race,  but  all  the  advantages  he  has  since 
taken  of  his  innocent  fellows,  by  reason  of  his 
preoccupation  of  his  position  of  knowledge  and 
depravity. 

We  made  always,  except  in  the  steep  ascents, 
about  ten  miles  an  hour.  The  management  of  the 


260 

route  is  the  perfection  of  French  system,  and  bureau- 
cracy. We  travel  with  a  way-bill  of  numbered 
details,  as  if  we  were  a  royal  mail.  At  every  sta- 
tion we  change  one  horse,  so  that  we  always  have 
a  fresh  animal.  The  way-bill  is  at  every  station 
signed  by  the  agent,  and  the  minute  of  arrival  and 
departure  exactly  noted;  each  horse  has  its  num- 
ber, and  the  number  of  the  one  taken  and  the  one 
left  is  entered.  All  is  life  and  promptness  at  the 
stations;  changes  are  quickly  made.  The  way-bill 
would  show  the  company  the  exact  time  between 
stations;  but  I  noticed  that  our  driver  continually 
set  his  watch  backwards  and  forwards,  and  I  found 
that  he  and  the  dragoman  had  a  private  understand- 
ing to  conceal  our  delays  for  lunch,  for  traffic  with 
Jews,  or  for  the  enjoyment  of  scenery. 

After  we  had  crossed  the  summit  of  the  first 
ridge  we  dashed  down  the  gate  of  a  magnificent 
canon,  the  rocks  heaved  up  in  perpendicular  strata, 
overhanging,  craggy,  crumbled,  wild.  We  crossed 
then  a  dreary  and  nearly  arid  basin ;  climbed,  by 
curves  and  zigzags,  another  ridge,  and  then  went 
rapidly  down  until  we  struck  the  wild  and  narrow 
gorge  of  the  sacred  Abana.  Immediately  luxuriant 
vegetable  life  began.  The  air  was  sweet  with  the 
blossoms  of  the  mish-mish  (apricot),  and  splendid 
walnuts  and  poplars  overshadowed  us.  The  river, 
swollen  and  rushing  amid  the  trees  on  its  banks, 
was  frightfully  rapid.  The  valley  winds  sharply, 
and  gives  room  only  for  the  river  and  the  road, 
and  sometimes  only  for  one  of  them.  Sometimes 
the  river  is  taken  out  of  its  bed  and  carried  along 


THE   APPROACH   TO   THE   CITY  261 

one  bank  or  the  other;  sometimes  the  road  crosses 
it,  and  again  pursues  its  way  between  its  divided 
streams.  We  were  excited  by  its  rush  and  vol- 
ume, and  by  the  rich  vegetation  along  its  sides. 
We  came  to  fantastic  Saracenic  country-seats,  to 
arcaded  and  latticed  houses  set  high  up  over  the 
river,  to  evidences  of  wealth  and  of  proximity  to  a 
great  city. 

Suddenly,  for  we  seemed  to  have  become  a  part 
of  the  rushing  torrent  and  to  share  its  rapidity,  we 
burst  out  of  the  gorge,  and  saw  the  river,  overpass- 
ing its  narrow  banks,  flowing  straight  on  before  us, 
and  beyond,  on  a  level,  the  minarets  and  domes  of 
Damascus !  All  along  the  river,  on  both  banks  of 
it,  and  along  the  high  wall  by  the  roadside,  were 
crowds  of  men  in  Turkish  costume,  of  women  in 
pure  white,  of  Arabs  sitting  quietly  by  the  stream 
smoking  the  narghileh,  squatting  in  rows  along  the 
wall  and  along  the  water,  all  pulling  at  the  water- 
pipe.  There  were  tents  and  booths  erected  by  the 
river.  In  a  further  reach  of  it  men  and  boys  were 
bathing.  Ranks  and  groups  of  veiled  women  and 
children  crouched  on  the  damp  soil  close  to  the 
flood,  or  sat  immovable  on  some  sandy  point.  It 
is  a  delicious  holiday  for  two  or  three  women  to  sit 
the  livelong  day  by  water,  running  or  stagnant,  to 
sit  there  with  their  veils  drawn  over  their  heads, 
as  rooted  as  water-plants,  and  as  inanimate  as  bags 
of  flour.  It  was  a  striking  Oriental  picture,  played 
on  by  the  sun,  enlivened  by  the  swift  current, 
which  dashes  full  into  the  city. 

As  we  spun  on,  the  crowd  thickened,  —  soldiers, 


262  ON   THE   ROAD   TO    DAMASCUS 

grave  Turks  on  caparisoned  horses  or  white  don- 
keys, Jews,  blacks,  Persians.  We  crossed  a  trem- 
bling bridge,  and  rattled  into  town  over  stony 
pavements,  forced  our  way  with  difficulty  into 
streets  narrow  and  broken  by  sharp  turns,  the  car- 
riage-wheels scarcely  missing  men  and  children 
stretched  on  the  ground,  who  refused,  on  the  theory 
of  their  occupation  of  the  soil  prior  to  the  inven- 
tion of  wheels,  to  draw  in  even  a  leg ;  and,  in  a 
confused  whirl  of  novel  sights  and  discordant  yells, 
barks,  and  objurgations,  we  came  to  Dimitri's  ho- 
tel. The  carriage  stopped  in  the  narrow  street; 
a  small  door  in  the  wall,  a  couple  of  feet  above  the 
pavement,  opened,  and  we  stepped  through  into  a 
little  court  occupied  by  a  fountain  and  an  orange- 
tree  loaded  with  golden  fruit.  Thence  we  passed 
into  a  large  court,  the  centre  of  the  hotel,  where  the 
Abana  pours  a  generous  supply  into  a  vast  marble 
basin,  and  trees  and  shrubs  offer  shelter  to  singing 
birds.  About  us  was  a  wilderness  of  balconies, 
staircases,  and  corridors,  the  sun  flooding  it  all; 
and  Dimitri  himself,  sleek,  hospitable,  stood  bow- 
ing, in  a  red  fez,  silk  gown,  and  long  gold  chain. 


xin 

THE  OLDEST  OF  CITIES 

T  is  a  popular  opinion  that  there  is  no- 
thing of  man's  work  older  than  Damas- 
cus ;  there  is  certainly  nothing  newer. 
The  city  preserves  its  personal  identity 
as  a  man  keeps  his  from  youth  to  age,  through 
the  constant  change  of  substance.  The  man  has  in 
his  body  not  an  atom  of  the  boy;  but  if  the  boy 
incurred  scars,  they  are  perpetuated  in  the  man. 
Damascus  has  some  scars.  We  say  of  other  an- 
cient cities,  "This  part  is  old,  that  part  is  new." 
We  say  of  Damascus,  its  life  is  that  of  a  tree,  de- 
cayed at  heart,  dropping  branches,  casting  leaves, 
but  always  renewing  itself. 

How  old  is  Damascus?  Or,  rather,  how  long 
has  a  city  of  that  name  existed  here  on  the  banks 
of  the  Abana?  According  to  Jewish  tradition, 
which  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt,  it  was  founded 
by  Uz,  the  son  of  Aram,  the  son  of  Shem.  By  the 
same  tradition  it  was  a  great  city  when  a  remark- 
able man,  of  the  tenth  generation  from  the  Deluge, 
—  a  person  of  great  sagacity,  not  mistaken  in  his 
opinions,  skillful  in  the  celestial  science,  compelled 
to  leave  Chaldea  when  he  was  seventy -five  years 


264  THE   OLDEST   OF    CITIES 

old,  on  account  of  his  religious  opinions,  since  he 
ventured  to  publish  the  notion  that  there  was  but 
one  God,  the  Creator  of  the  Universe,  — came 
with  an  army  of  dependents  and  "reigned"  in  the 
city  of  Uz.  After  some  time  Abraham  removed 
into  Canaan,  which  was  already  occupied  by  the 
Canaanites,  who  had  come  from  the  Persian  Gulf, 
established  themselves  in  wall-towns  in  the  hills, 
built  Sidon  on  the  coast,  and  carried  their  con- 
quests into  Egypt.  It  was  doubtless  during  the 
reign  of  the  Hittites,  or  Shepherd  Kings,  that 
Abraham  visited  Egypt.  Those  usurpers  occupied 
the  throne  of  the  Pharaohs  for  something  like  five 
hundred  years,  and  it  was  during  their  occupancy 
that  the  Jews  settled  in  the  Delta. 

Now,  if  we  can  at  all  fix  the  date  of  the  reign  of 
the  Shepherd  Kings,  we  can  approximate  to  the 
date  of  the  foundation  of  Damascus,  for  Uz  was 
the  third  generation  from  Noah,  and  Abraham  was 
the  tenth.  We  do  not  know  how  to  reckon  a  gen- 
eration in  those  days,  when  a  life-lease  was  such  a 
valuable  estate,  but  if  we  should  assume  it  to  be  a 
century,  we  should  have  about  seven  hundred  years 
between  the  foundation  of  Damascus  and  the  visit 
of  Abraham  to  Egypt,  a  very  liberal  margin.  But 
by  the  chronology  of  Mariette  Bey,  the  approxi- 
mate date  of  the  Shepherds'  invasion  is  2300  B.  c. 
to  2200  B.  c.,  and  somewhat  later  than  that  time 
Abraham  was  in  Damascus.  If  Damascus  was 
then  seven  hundred  years  old,  the  date  of  its  foun- 
dation would  be  about  3000  B.  c.  to  2900  B.  c. 

Assuming  that  Damascus  has  this  positive  old 


ITS   AGE  265 

age,  how  old  is  it  comparatively?  When  we  re- 
gard it  in  this  light,  we  are  obliged  to  confess  that 
it  is  a  modern  city.  When  Uz  and  his  friends 
wandered  out  of  the  prolific  East,  and  pitched 
their  tents  by  the  Abana,  there  was  already  on  the 
banks  of  the  Nile  a  civilized,  polished  race,  which 
had  nearly  completed  a  cycle  of  national  existence 
much  longer  than  the  duration  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire. It  was  about  the  eleventh  dynasty  of  the 
Egyptian  kingdom,  the  Great  Pyramid  had  been 
built  more  than  a  thousand  years,  and  the  already 
degenerate  Egyptians  of  the  "Old  Empire  "had 
forgotten  the  noble  art  which  adorned  and  still 
renders  illustrious  the  reigns  of  the  pyramid-build- 
ers. 

But  if  Damascus  cannot  claim  the  highest  anti- 
quity, it  has  outlived  all  its  rivals  on  the  earth,  and 
has  flourished  in  a  freshness  as  perennial  as  the 
fountain  to  which  it  owes  its  life,  through  all  the 
revolutions  of  the  Orient.  As  a  necessary  com- 
mercial capital  it  has  pursued  a  pretty  uniform 
tenor  under  all  its  various  masters.  Tiglath-Pile- 
ser  attempted  to  destroy  it;  it  was  a  Babylonian 
and  then  a  Persian  satrapy  for  centuries;  it  was  a 
Greek  city ;  it  was  the  capital  of  a  Roman  province 
for  seven  hundred  years;  it  was  a  Christian  city 
and  reared  a  great  temple  to  John  the  Baptist ;  it 
was  the  capital  of  the  Saracenic  Empire,  in  which 
resided  the  ruler  who  gave  laws  to  all  the  lands 
from  India  to  Spain;  it  was  ravaged  by  Tamer- 
lane ;  it  now  suffers  the  blight  of  Turkish  imbecil- 
ity. From  of  old  it  was  a  caravan  station  and  a 


266  THE   OLDEST    OF   CITIES 

mart  of  exchange,  a  camp  by  a  stream;  it  is  to- 
day a  commercial  hive,  swarming  with  an  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  people,  a  city  without  monu- 
ments of  its  past  or  ambition  for  its  future. 

If  one  could  see  Damascus,  perhaps  he  could  in- 
vent a  phrase  that  would  describe  it;  but  when 
you  have  groped  and  stumbled  about  in  it  for  a 
couple  of  weeks,  endeavoring  in  vain  to  get  a  view 
of  more  than  a  few  rods  of  it  at  a  time,  you  are 
utterly  at  a  loss  how  to  convey  an  impression  of  it 
to  others. 

If  Egypt  is  the  gift  of  the  Nile,  the  river  Abana 
is  the  life  of  Damascus ;  its  water  is  carried  into 
the  city  on  a  dozen  different  levels,  making  it  lit- 
erally one  of  fountains  and  running  water.  Some- 
times the  town  is  flooded ;  the  water  had  only  just 
subsided  from  the  hotel  when  we  arrived.  This 
inundation  makes  the  city  damp  for  a  long  time. 
Indeed,  it  is  at  all  times  rather  soaked  with  water, 
and  is  —  with  all  respect  to  Uz  and  Abraham  and 
the  dynasty  of  the  Omeiyades  —  a  sort  of  habitable 
frog-pond  on  a  grand  scale.  At  night  the  noise  of 
frogs,  even  at  our  hotel,  is  the  chief  music,  the 
gentle  twilight  song,  broken,  it  is  true,  by  the  in- 
cessant howling  and  yelping  of  savage  dogs,  packs 
of  which  roam  the  city  like  wolves  all  night. 
They  are  mangy  yellow  curs,  without  a  single  good 
quality,  except  that  they  sleep  all  the  daytime.  In 
every  quarter  of  the  city  you  see  ranks  and  rows 
of  them  asleep  in  the  sun,  occupying  half  the  street 
and  nestling  in  all  the  heaps  of  rubbish.  But  much 
as  has  been  said  of  the  dogs  here,  I  think  the  frogs 


THE   NARGHILEH  267 

are  the  feature  of  the  town ;  they  are  as  numerous 
as  in  the  marshes  of  Ravenna. 

Still  the  water  could  not  be  spared.  It  gives 
sparkle,  life,  verdure.  In  walking  you  constantly 
get  glimpses  through  heavy  doorways  of  fountains, 
marble  tanks  of  running  water,  of  a  blooming  tree 
or  a  rose-trellis  in  a  marble  court,  of  a  garden  of 
flowers.  The  crooked,  twisted,  narrow  streets, 
mere  lanes  of  mud-walls,  would  be  scarcely  endur- 
able but  for  these  occasional  glimpses,  and  the 
sight  now  and  then  of  the  paved,  pillared  court  of 
a  gayly  painted  mosque. 

One  ought  not  to  complain  when  the  Arab  bar- 
ber who  trims  his  hair  gives  him  a  narghileh  to 
smoke  during  the  operation ;  but  Damascus  is  not 
so  Oriental  as  Cairo,  the  predominant  Turkish 
element  is  not  so  picturesque  as  the  Egyptian. 
And  this  must  be  said  in  the  face  of  the  universal 
use  of  the  narghileh,  which  more  than  any  other 
one  thing  imparts  an  Oriental,  luxurious  tone  to 
the  city.  The  pipe  of  Egypt  is  the  chibouk,  a  stem 
of  cherry  five  feet  long  with  a  small  clay  bowl ; 
however  richly  it  may  be  ornamented,  furnished 
with  a  costly  amber  mouthpiece,  wound  with  wire 
of  gold,  and  studded,  as  it  often  is,  with  diamonds 
and  other  stones  of  price,  it  is,  at  the  best,  a  stiff 
affair;  and  even  this  pipe  is  more  and  more  dis- 
placed by  the  cigar,  just  as  in  Germany  the  meer- 
schaum has  yielded  to  the  cigar  as  the  Germans 
have  become  accessible  to  foreign  influences.  But 
in  Damascus  the  picturesque  narghileh,  encourager 
of  idleness,  is  still  the  universal  medium  of  smoke. 


268  THE   OLDEST   OF   CITIES 

The  management  of  the  narghileh  requires  that 
a  person  should  give  his  undivided  mind  to  it ;  in 
return  for  that,  it  gives  him  peace.  The  simplest 
narghileh  is  a  cocoanut-shell,  with  a  flexible  stem 
attached,  and  an  open  metal  bowl  on  top  for  the 
tobacco.  The  smoke  is  drawn  through  the  water 
which  the  shell  contains.  Other  narghilehs  have  a 
glass  standard  and  water-bowl,  and  a  flexible  stem 
two  or  three  yards  in  length.  The  smoker,  seated 
cross-legged  before  this  graceful  object,  appears 
to  be  worshiping  his  idol.  The  mild  Persian  to- 
bacco is  kept  alight  by  a  slowly  burning  piece  of 
dried  refuse  which  is  kindly  furnished  by  the  camel 
for  fuel;  and  the  smoke  is  inhaled  into  the  lungs, 
and  slowly  expelled  from  the  nostrils  and  the 
mouth.  Although  the  hastily  rolled  cigarette  is  the 
resort  of  the  poor  in  Egypt,  and  is  somewhat  used 
here,  it  must  be  a  very  abandoned  wretch  who 
cannot  afford  a  pull  at  a  narghileh  in  Damascus. 
Its  universality  must  excuse  the  long  paragraph  I 
have  devoted  to  this  pipe.  You  see  men  smoking 
it  in  all  the  cafes,  in  all  the  shops,  by  the  roadside, 
seated  in  the  streets,  in  every  garden,  and  on  the 
house-tops.  The  visible  occupation  of  Damascus 
is  sucking  this  pipe. 

Our  first  walk  in  the  city  was  on  Sunday  to  the 
church  of  the  Presbyterian  mission ;  on  our  way 
we  threaded  a  wilderness  of  bazaars,  nearly  all  of 
them  roofed  over,  most  of  them  sombre  and  gloomy. 
Only  in  the  glaring  heat  of  summer  could  they  be 
agreeable  places  of  refuge.  The  roofing  of  these 
tortuous  streets  and  lanes  is  not  so  much  to  ex- 


A   DISAPPOINTING   PARADISE  269 

elude  the  sun,  I  imagine,  as  to  keep  out  the  snow, 
and  the  roofs  are  consequently  substantial;  for 
Damascus  has  an  experience  of  winter,  being 
twenty -two  hundred  feet  above  the  sea-level,  nearly 
as  high  as  Jerusalem.  These  bazaars,  so  much 
vaunted  all  through  the  Orient,  disappointed  us, 
not  in  extent,  for  they  are  interminable,  but  in 
wanting  the  picturesqueness,  oddity,  and  richness 
of  those  of  Cairo.  And  this,  like  the  general  ap- 
pearance of  the  city,  is  a  disappointment  hard  to 
be  borne,  for  we  have  been  taught  to  believe  that 
Damascus  is  a  Paradise  on  earth,  and  that  here, 
if  anywhere,  we  should  come  into  that  region  of 
enchantment  which  the  poets  of  the  Arabian 
Nights'  tales  have  imposed  upon  us  as  the  actual 
Orient.  Should  we  have  recognized,  in  the  low 
and  partially  flooded  strip  of  grass-land  through 
which  we  drove  from  the  mouth  of  the  Abana 
gorge  to  the  western  gate  of  the  city,  the  green 
Merj  of  the  Arabian  poets,  that  gem  of  the  earth  ? 
The  fame  of  it  has  gone  abroad  throughout  the 
world,  as  if  it  were  a  unique  gift  of  Allah  to  his 
favorites.  Why,  every  Occidental  land  has  a  mil- 
lion glades,  watered,  green-sodded,  tree-embow- 
ered, more  lovely  than  this,  that  no  poet  has 
thought  it  worth  while  to  celebrate. 

We  found  a  little  handful  of  worshipers  at  the 
mission  church,  and  among  them  —  Heaven  forgive 
us  for  looking  at  her  on  Sunday !  —  an  eccentric 
and  somewhat  notorious  English  lady  of  title,  who 
shares  the  bed  and  board  of  an  Arab  sheykh  in  his 
harem  outside  the  walls.  It  makes  me  blush  for 


270  THE   OLDEST   OF   CITIES 

the  attractiveness  of  my  own  country,  and  the 
slighted  fascination  of  the  noble  red  man  in  his 
paint  and  shoddy  blanket,  when  I  see  a  lady,  sated 
with  the  tame  civilization  of  England,  throw  her- 
self into  the  arms  of  one  of  these  coarse  bigamists 
of  the  desert.  Has  he  no  reputation  in  the  mother 
country,  our  noble,  chivalrous  Walk-Under-the- 
Ground? 

We  saw  something  of  the  missionaries  of  Da- 
mascus, but  as  I  was  not  of  the  established  religion 
at  the  court  of  Washington  at  the  time  of  my  de- 
parture from  home,  and  had  no  commission  to  re- 
port to  the  government,  either  upon  the  condition 
of  consulates  or  of  religion  abroad,  I  am  not  pre- 
pared to  remark  much  upon  the  state  of  either  in 
this  city.  I  should  say,  however,  that  not  many 
direct  converts  were  made  either  from  Moslemism 
or  from  other  Christian  beliefs,  but  that  incalcula- 
ble good  is  accomplished  by  the  schools  which  the 
missionaries  conduct.  The  influence  of  these,  in 
encouraging  a  disposition  to  read,  and  to  inquire 
into  the  truth  and  into  the  conditions  of  a  better 
civilization,  is  not  to  be  overestimated.  What  im- 
pressed me  most,  however,  in  the  fortune  of  these 
able,  faithful  servants  of  the  propagandism  of 
Christian  civilization,  was  their  pathetic  isolation. 
A  gentleman  and  his  wife  of  this  mission  had  been 
thirty  years  absent  from  the  United  States.  The 
friends  who  cheered  or  regretted  their  departure, 
who  cried  over  them,  and  prayed  over  them,  and 
followed  them  with  tender  messages,  had  passed 
away,  or  become  so  much  absorbed  in  the  ever- 


THE  MISSIONARIES  271 

exciting  life  at  home  as  to  have  almost  forgotten 
those  who  had  gone  away  to  the  heathen  a  gener- 
ation ago.  The  Mission  Board  that  personally 
knew  them  and  lovingly  cared  for  them  is  now 
composed  of  strangers  to  them.  They  were,  in 
fact,  expatriated,  lost  sight  of.  And  yet  they  had 
gained  no  country  nor  any  sympathies  to  supply 
the  place  of  those  lost.  They  must  always  be,  to 
a  great  degree,  strangers  in  this  fierce,  barbarous 
city. 

We  wandered  down  through  the  Christian  quar- 
ter of  the  town :  few  shops  are  here ;  we  were  most 
of  the  time  walking  between  mud-walls,  which 
have  a  door  now  and  then.  This  quarter  is  new; 
it  was  entirely  burned  by  the  Moslems  and  Druses 
in  1860,  when  no  less  than  twenty -five  hundred 
adult  male  Christians,  heads  of  families,  were 
slaughtered,  and  thousands  more  perished  of 
wounds  and  famine  consequent  upon  the  total  de- 
struction of  their  property.  That  the  Druses  were 
incited  to  this  persecution  by  the  Turkish  rulers  is 
generally  believed.  We  went  out  of  the  city  by 
the  eastern  gate,  called  Bab  Shurky,  which  name 
profanely  suggested  the  irrelevant  colored  image 
of  Bob  Sharkey,  and  found  ourselves  in  the  pres- 
ence of  huge  mounds  of  rubbish,  the  accumulations 
of  refuse  carted  out  of  the  city  during  many  cen- 
turies, which  entirely  concealed  from  view  the 
country  beyond.  We  skirted  these  for  a  while, 
with  the  crumbling  city  wall  on  the  left  hand, 
passed  through  the  hard,  gray,  desolate  Turkish 
cemetery,  and  came  at  length  into  what  might  be 


272  THE   OLDEST   OF   CITIES 

called  country.  Not  that  we  could  see  any  coun- 
try, however;  we  were  always  between  high  mud- 
walls,  and  could  see  nothing  beyond  them,  except 
the  sky,  unless  we  stepped  through  an  open  door 
into  a  garden. 

Into  one  of  these  gardens,  a  public  one,  and  one 
of  the  most  celebrated  in  the  rhapsodies  of  travel- 
ers and  by  the  inventive  poets,  we  finally  turned. 
When  you  are  walking  for  pleasure  in  your  native 
land,  and  indulging  a  rural  feeling,  would  you  vol- 
untarily go  into  a  damp  swale,  and  sit  on  a  moist 
sod  under  a  willow?  This  garden  is  low,  consid- 
erably lower  than  the  city,  which  has  gradually 
elevated  itself  on  its  own  decay,  and  is  cut  by  little 
canals  or  sluiceways  fed  by  the  Abana,  which  run 
with  a  good  current.  The  ground  is  well  covered 
with  coarse  grass,  of  the  vivid  green  that  one  finds 
usually  in  low  ground,  and  is  liberally  sprinkled 
with  a  growth  of  willows  and  poplars.  In  this  gar- 
den of  the  Hesperides,  in  which  there  are  few  if  any 
flowers,  and  no  promise  of  fruit,  there  is  a  rough 
wooden  shed,  rickety  and  decaying,  having,  if  I  re- 
member rightly,  a  balcony,  —  it  must  have  a  bal- 
cony, —  and  there  pipes,  poor  lemonade,  and  poorer 
ice-cream  are  served  to  customers.  An  Arab  band 
of  four  persons,  one  of  them  of  course  blind  of  an 
eye,  seated  cross-legged  on  a  sort  of  bedstead,  was 
picking  and  thumping  a  monotonous,  never-ending 
tune  out  of  the  usual  instruments.  You  could  not 
deny  that  the  vivid  greenery,  and  the  gayly  ap- 
pareled groups  sitting  about  under  the  trees  and  on 
the  water's  edge,  made  a  lively  scene.  In  another 


PUBLIC   AND   PRIVATE   GARDENS  273 

garden,  farther  on  around  the  wall,  the  shanty  of 
entertainment  is  a  many-galleried  shaky  construc- 
tion, or  a  series  of  platforms  and  terraces  of  wood, 
overhanging  the  swift  Abana.  In  the  daytime  it 
is  but  a  shabby  sight ;  but  at  night,  when  a  thou- 
sand colored  globes  light  it  without  revealing  its 
poverty,  and  the  lights  dance  in  the  water,  and 
hundreds  of  turbaned,  gowned  narghileh-smokers 
and  coffee-drinkers  lounge  in  the  galleries,  or  grace- 
fully take  their  ease  by  the  sparkling  current,  and 
the  faint  thump  of  the  darabouka  is  heard,  and 
some  gesticulating  story-teller,  mounted  upon  a 
bench,  is  reeling  off  to  an  attentive  audience  an  in- 
terminable Arabian  tale,  you  might  fancy  that  the 
romance  of  the  Orient  is  not  all  invented. 

Of  other  and  private  gardens  and  inclosures  we 
had  glimpses,  on  our  walk,  through  open  gates, 
and  occasionally  over  the  walls ;  we  could  imagine 
what  a  fragrance  and  color  would  greet  the  senses 
when  the  apricots  are  in  bloom,  and  the  oranges 
and  lemons  in  flower,  and  how  beautiful  the  view 
might  be  if  the  ugly  walls  did  not  conceal  it.  We 
returned  by  the  saddlers'  bazaar,  and  by  a  famous 
plane-tree,  which  may  be  as  old  as  the  Moslem 
religion;  its  gnarled  limbs  are  like  the  stems  of 
ordinary  trees,  and  its  trunk  is  forty  feet  around. 

The  remark  that  Damascus  is  without  monu- 
ments of  its  past  needs  qualification ;  it  was  made 
with  reference  to  its  existence  before  the  Christian 
era,  and  in  comparison  with  other  capitals  of  anti- 
quity. Remains  may,  indeed,  be  met  in  its  exte- 
rior walls,  and  in  a  broken  column  here  and  there 


274  THE  OLDEST   OF   CITIES 

built  into  a  modern  house,  of  Roman  workman- 
ship, and  its  Great  Mosque  is  an  historical  monu- 
ment of  great  interest,  if  not  of  the  highest  anti- 
quity. In  its  structure  it  represents  three  religions 
and  three  periods  of  art ;  like  the  mosque  of  St. 
Sophia  at  Constantinople,  it  was  for  centuries  a 
Christian  cathedral ;  like  the  Dome  of  the  Rock  at 
Jerusalem,  it  is  built  upon  a  spot  consecrated  by 
the  most  ancient  religious  rites.  Situated  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  densely  peopled  part  of  the  city, 
and  pressed  on  all  sides  by  its  most  crowded  ba- 
zaars, occupying  a  quadrangle  nearly  five  hundred 
feet  one  way  by  over  three  hundred  the  other,  the 
wanderer  among  the  shops  is  constantly  coming  to 
one  side  or  another  of  it,  and  getting  glimpses 
through  the  spacious  portals  of  the  colonnaded 
court  within.  Hemmed  in  as  it  is,  it  is  only  by 
diving  into  many  alleys  and  pushing  one's  way 
into  the  rear  of  dirty  shops  and  climbing  upon  the 
roofs  of  houses,  that  one  can  get  any  idea  of  the 
exterior  of  the  mosque.  It  is,  indeed,  only  from 
an  eminence  that  you  can  see  its  three  beautiful 
minarets. 

It  does  not  appear  that  Chosroes,  the  Persian 
who  encamped  his  army  in  the  delicious  gardens 
of  Damascus,  in  the  year  614,  when  he  was  on  his 
way  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  and  the  mas- 
sacre of  its  Christian  inhabitants,  disturbed  the 
church  of  John  the  Baptist  in  this  city.  But 
twenty  years  later  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Sar- 
acens, who  for  a  few  years  were  content  to  share 
it  with  the  Christian  worshipers.  It  is  said  that 


THE   GREAT  MOSQUE  275 

when  Khaled,  the  most  redoubtable  of  the  Friends 
of  the  Prophet,  whose  deeds  entitled  him  to  the 
sobriquet  of  The  Sword  of  God,  entered  this  old 
church,  he  asked  to  be  conducted  into  the  sacred 
vault  (which  is  now  beneath  the  kubbeh  of  the 
mosque),  and  that  he  was  there  shown  the  head  of 
John  the  Baptist  in  a  gold  casket,  which  had  in 
Greek  this  inscription :  "  This  casket  contains  the 
head  of  John  the  Baptist,  son  of  Zachariah." 

The  building  had  been  then  for  over  three  cen- 
turies a  Christian  church.  And  already,  when 
Constantine  dedicated  it  to  Christian  use,  it  had 
for  over  three  hundred  years  witnessed  the  wor- 
ship of  pagan  deities.  The  present  edifice  is  much 
shorn  of  its  original  splendor  and  proportions,  but 
sufficient  remains  to  show  that  it  was  a  worthy 
rival  of  the  temples  of  Ba'albek,  Palmyra,  and 
Jerusalem.  No  part  of  the  building  is  older  than 
the  Roman  occupation,  but  the  antiquarians  are 
agreed  to  think  that  this  was  the  site  of  the  old 
Syrian  temple,  in  which  Ahaz  saw  the  beautiful 
altar  which  he  reproduced  in  the  temple  at  Jeru- 
salem. 

Pieces  of  superb  carving,  recalling  the  temple  of 
the  Sun  at  Ba'albek,  may  still  be  found  in  some 
of  the  gateways,  and  the  noble  Corinthian  columns 
of  the  interior  are  to  be  referred  to  Roman  or 
Greek  workmen.  Christian  art  is  represented  in 
the  building  in  some  part  of  the  walls  and  in  the 
round-topped  windows;  and  the  Moslems  have 
superimposed  upon  all  minarets,  a  dome,  and  the 
gay  decorations  of  colored  marbles  and  flaring 
inscriptions. 


276  THE    OLDEST   OF   CITIES 

The  Moslems  have  been  either  too  ignorant  or 
too  careless  to  efface  all  the  evidences  of  Christian 
occupation.  The  doors  of  the  eastern  gate  are  em- 
bossed with  brass,  and  among  the  emblems  is  the 
Christian  sacramental  cup.  Over  an  arch,  which 
can  be  seen  only  from  the  roof  of  the  silversmiths' 
bazaar,  is  this  inscription  in  Greek :  "  Thy  king- 
dom, O  Christ,  is  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and  thy 
dominion  endureth  throughout  all  generations." 

It  required  a  special  permit  to  admit  us  to  the 
mosque,  but  when  we  were  within  the  sacred  pre- 
cincts and  shod  with  slippers,  lest  our  infidel  shoes 
should  touch  the  pavement,  we  were  followed  by  a 
crowd  of  attendants  who  for  the  moment  overcame 
their  repugnance  to  our  faith  in  expectation  of  our 
backsheesh.  The  interior  view  is  impressive  by 
reason  of  the  elegant  minarets  and  the  fine  col- 
onnaded open  court.  Upon  one  of  the  minarets 
Jesus  will  descend  when  he  comes  to  judge  the 
world.  The  spacious  mosque,  occupying  one  side 
of  the  court,  and  open  on  that  side  to  its  roof,  is 
divided  in  its  length  by  two  rows  of  Corinthian 
columns,  and  has  a  certain  cheerfulness  and  hos- 
pitality. The  tesselated  marble  pavement  of  the 
interior  is  much  worn,  and  is  nearly  all  covered 
with  carpets  of  Persia  and  of  Smyrna.  The  only 
tomb  in  the  mosque  is  that  of  St.  John  the  Baptist, 
which  is  draped  in  a  richly  embroidered  cloth. 

We  were  anew  impressed  by  the  homelike,  dem- 
ocratic character  of  the  great  mosques.  This, 
opening  by  its  four  gates  into  the  busiest  bazaars, 
as  we  said,  is  much  frequented  at  all  hours.  At 


A    PECULIAR   VIEW  277 

the  seasons  of  prayer  you  may  see  great  numbers 
prostrating  themselves  in  devotion,  and  at  all  other 
times  this  cool  retreat  is  a  refuge  for  the  poor  and 
the  weary.  The  fountains  of  running  water  in  the 
court  attract  people,  —  those  who  desire  only  to  sit 
there  and  rest,  as  well  as  those  who  wash  and  pray. 
About  the  fountains  and  in  the  mosque  were  seated 
groups  of  women,  eating  their  noonday  bread,  or 
resting  in  that  dumb  attitude  under  which  Eastern 
women  disguise  their  discontent  or  their  intrigues. 
This  is,  at  any  rate,  a  haven  of  rest  for  all,  and  it 
is  a  goodly  sight  to  see  all  classes,  rich  and  poor, 
flocking  in  here,  leaving  their  shoes  at  the  door  or 
carrying  them  in  their  hands. 

The  view  from  the  minaret  which  we  ascended 
is  peculiar.  On  the  horizon  we  saw  the  tops  of 
hills  and  mountains,  snowy  Hermon  among  them. 
Far  over  the  plain  we  could  not  look,  for  the  city 
is  beset  by  a  thicket  of  slender  trees,  which  were 
just  then  in  fresh  leafage.  Withdrawing  our  gaze 
from  the  environs,  we  looked  down  upon  the  wide- 
spread oval-shaped  city.  Most  conspicuous  were 
the  minarets,  then  a  few  domes,  and  then  thou- 
sands of  dome-shaped  roofs.  You  see  the  top  of 
a  covered  city,  but  not  the  city.  In  fact,  it 
scarcely  looks  like  a  city ;  you  see  no  streets,  and 
few  roofs  proper,  for  we  have  to  look  twice  to  con- 
vince ourselves  that  the  flat  spaces  covered  with 
earth  and  often  green  with  vegetation  (gardens  in 
the  air)  are  actually  roofs  of  houses.  The  streets 
are  either  roofed  over  or  are  so  narrow  that  we 
cannot  see  them  from  this  height.  Damascus  is  a 
sort  of  rabbit-burrow. 


278  THE   OLDEST   OF   CITIES 

Not  far  from  the  Great  Mosque  is  the  tomb  of 
Saladin.  We  looked  from  the  street  through  a 
grated  window,  to  the  bars  of  which  the  faithful 
have  tied  innumerable  rags  and  strings  (pious  offer- 
ings, which  it  is  supposed  will  bring  them  good 
luck),  into  a  painted  inclosure,  and  saw  a  large 
catafalque,  or  sarcophagus,  covered  with  a  green 
mantle.  The  tomb  is  near  a  mosque,  and  beside 
a  busy  cotton-bazaar ;  it  is  in  the  midst  of  traffic 
and  travel,  among  activities  and  the  full  rush  of 
life,  —  just  where  a  man  would  like  to  be  buried 
in  order  to  be  kept  in  remembrance. 

In  going  about  the  streets  we  notice  the  preva- 
lence of  color  in  portals,  in  the  interior  courts  of 
houses,  and  in  the  baths ;  there  is  a  fondness  for 
decorating  with  broad  gay  stripes  of  red,  yellow, 
and  white.  Even  the  white  pet  sheep  which  are 
led  about  by  children  have  their  wool  stained  with 
dabs  of  brilliant  color,  —  perhaps  in  honor  of  the 
Greek  Easter. 

The  baths  of  Damascus  are  many  and  very  good, 
not  so  severe  and  violent  as  those  of  New  York, 
nor  so  thorough  as  those  of  Cairo,  but,  the  best  of 
them,  clean  and  agreeable.  We  push  aside  a  gay 
curtain  from  the  street  and  descend  by  steps  into 
a  square  apartment.  It  has  a  dome  like  a  mosque. 
Under  the  dome  is  a  large  marble  basin  into  which 
water  is  running ;  the  floor  is  tesselated  with  col- 
ored marbles.  Each  side  is  a  recess  with  a  half 
dome,  and  in  the  recesses  are  elevated  divans  piled 
with  cushions  for  reclining.  The  walls  are  painted 
in  stripes  of  blue,  yellow,  and  red,  and  the  room 


THE   BATH  279 

is  bright  with  various  Oriental  stuffs.  There  are 
turbaned  and  silken-attired  attendants,  whose  gen- 
tle faces  might  make  them  mistaken  for  ministers 
of  religion  as  well  as  of  cleanliness,  and  upon  the 
divans  recline  those  who  have  come  from  the  bath, 
enjoying  kief,  with  pipes  and  coffee.  There  is  an 
atmosphere  of  perfect  contentment  in  the  place, 
and  I  can  imagine  how  an  effeminate  ruler  might 
see,  almost  without  a  sigh,  the  empire  of  the  world 
slip  from  his  grasp  while  he  surrendered  himself  to 
this  delicious  influence. 

We  undressed,  were  toweled,  shod  with  wooden 
clogs,  and  led  through  marble  paved  passages  and 
several  rooms  into  an  inner,  long  chamber,  which 
has  a  domed  roof  pierced  by  bulls '-eyes  of  party- 
colored  glass.  The  floor,  of  colored  marbles,  was 
slippery  with  water  running  from  the  overflowing 
fountains,  or  dashed  about  by  the  attendants.  Out 
of  this  room  open  several  smaller  chambers,  into 
which  an  unsocial  person  might  retire.  We  sat 
down  on  the  floor  by  a  marble  basin  into  which 
both  hot  and  cold  water  poured.  After  a  little 
time  spent  in  contemplating  the  humidity  of  the 
world,  and  reflecting  on  the  equality  of  all  men 
before  the  law  without  clothes,  an  attendant  ap- 
proached, and  began  to  deluge  us  with  buckets  of 
hot  water,  dashing  them  over  us  with  a  jocular  en- 
joyment and  as  much  indifference  to  our  person- 
ality as  if  we  had  been  statues.  I  should  like  to 
know  how  life  looks  to  a  man  who  passes  his  days 
in  this  dimly  illumined  chamber  of  steam,  and 
is  permitted  to  treat  his  fellow-men  with  every 


280  THE   OLDEST   OF  CITIES 

mark  of  disrespect.  When  we  were  sufficiently 
drenched,  the  agile  Arab  who  had  selected  me  as 
his  mine  of  backsheesh,  knelt  down  and  began  to 
scrub  me  with  hair  mittens,  with  a  great  show  of 
energy,  uttering  jocose  exclamations  in  his  own 
language,  and  practicing  the  half-dozen  English 
words  he  had  mastered,  one  of  them  being  "dam," 
which  he  addressed  to  me  both  affirmatively  and 
interrogatively,  as  if  under  the  impression  that  it 
conveyed  the  same  meaning  as  tyeb  in  his  vocabu- 
lary. I  suppose  he  had  often  heard  wicked  Eng- 
lishmen, who  were  under  his  hands,  use  it,  and  he 
took  it  for  an  expression  of  profound  satisfaction. 
He  continued  this  operation  for  some  time,  put- 
ting me  in  a  sitting  position,  turning  me  over,  tell- 
ing me  to  "sleep  "  when  he  desired  me  to  lie  down, 
encouraging  me  by  various  barbarous  cries,  and 
slapping  his  hand  from  time  to  time  to  make  up 
by  noise  for  his  economical  expenditure  of  mus- 
cular force. 

After  my  hilarious  bather  had  finished  this  pro- 
cess, he  lathered  me  thoroughly,  drenched  me  from 
head  to  heels  in  suds,  and  then  let  me  put  the 
crowning  touch  to  my  happiness  by  entering  one 
of  the  little  rooms,  and  sliding  into  a  tank  of  water 
hot  enough  to  take  the  skin  off.  It  is  easy  enough 
to  make  all  this  process  read  like  a  martyrdom, 
but  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  so  delightful  that  you 
do  not  wonder  that  the  ancients  spent  so  much 
time  in  the  bath,  and  that  next  to  the  amphithea- 
tre the  emperors  and  tyrants  lavished  most  money 
upon  these  establishments,  of  which  the  people 
were  so  extravagantly  fond. 


A   PHYSICAL   PARADISE  281 

Fresh  towels  were  wound  around  us,  turbans 
were  put  on  our  heads,  and  we  were  led  back  to 
the  room  first  entered,  where  we  were  reenveloped 
in  cloths  and  towels,  and  left  to  recline  upon  the 
cushioned  divans;  pipes  and  coffee  were  brought, 
and  we  enjoyed  a  delicious  sense  of  repose  and 
bodily  lightness,  looking  dimly  at  the  grave  fig- 
ures about  us,  and  recognizing  in  them  not  men 
but  dreamy  images  of  a  physical  paradise.  No 
rude  voices  or  sharp  movements  broke  the  repose 
of  the  chamber.  It  was  as  in  a  dream  that  I 
watched  a  handsome  boy,  who,  with  a  long  pole, 
was  handling  the  washed  towels,  and  admired  the 
unerring  skill  that  tossed  the  strips  of  cloth  high 
in  the  air  and  caused  them  to  catch  and  hang 
squarely  upon  the  cords  stretched  across  the  re- 
cesses. The  mind  was  equal  to  the  observation, 
but  not  to  the  comprehension,  of  this  feat.  When 
we  were  sufficiently  cooled,  we  were  assisted  to 
dress,  the  various  articles  of  Frank  apparel  afford- 
ing great  amusement  to  the  Orientals.  The  charge 
for  the  whole  entertainment  was  two  francs  each, 
probably  about  four  times  what  a  native  would 
have  paid. 


XIV 


OTHER  SIGHTS  IN  DAMASCUS 

AY  after  day  we  continued,  like  the 
mourners,  to  go  about  the  streets,  in 
the  tangle  of  the  bazaars,  under  the 
dark  roofs,  endeavoring  to  see  Damas- 
cus. When  we  emerged  from  the  city  gate,  the 
view  was  not  much  less  limited.  I  made  the  cir- 
cuit of  the  wall  on  the  north,  in  lanes,  by  running 
streams,  canals,  inclosed  gardens,  seeing  every- 
where hundreds  of  patient,  summer  -  loving  men 
and  women  squatting  on  the  brink  of  every  rivulet, 
by  every  damp  spot,  in  idle  and  perfect  repose. 

We  stumbled  about  also  on  the  south  side  of 
the  town,  and  saw  the  reputed  place  of  St.  Paul's 
escape,  which  has  been  lately  changed.  It  is  a 
ruined  Saracenic  tower  in  the  wall,  under  which 
is  Bab  Kisan,  a  gate  that  has  been  walled  up  for 
seven  hundred  years.  The  window  does  not  any 
more  exist  from  which  the  apostle  was  let  down  in 
a  basket,  but  it  used  to  be  pointed  out  with  confi- 
dence, and  I  am  told  that  the  basket  is  still  shown, 
but  we  did  not  see  it.  There  are  still  some  houses 
on  this  south  wall,  and  a  few  of  them  have  pro- 
jecting windows  from  which  a  person  might  easily 


THE  CEMETERIES  283 

be  lowered.  It  was  in  such  a  house  that  the  har- 
lot of  Jericho  lived,  who  contrived  the  escape  of 
the  spies  of  Joshua.  And  we  see  how  thick  and 
substantial  the  town  walls  of  that  city  must  have 
been  to  support  human  habitations.  But  they 
were  blown  down. 

Turning  southward  into  the  country,  we  came 
to  the  tomb  of  the  porter  who  assisted  Paul's  es- 
cape, and  who  now  sleeps  here  under  the  weight 
of  the  sobriquet  of  St.  George.  A  little  farther 
out  on  the  same  road  is  located  the  spot  of  Saul's 
conversion.  Near  it  is  the  English  cemetery,  a 
small  high-walled  inclosure,  containing  a  domed 
building  surmounted  by  a  cross ;  and  in  this  histor- 
ical spot,  whose  mutations  of  race,  religion,  and 
government  would  forbid  the  most  superficial  to 
construct  for  it  any  cast-iron  scheme  of  growth  or 
decay,  amid  these  almost  melancholy  patches  of 
vegetation  which  still  hover  in  the  Oriental  imag- 
ination as  the  gardens  of  all  delights,  sleeps  undis- 
turbed by  ambition  or  by  criticism,  having  at 
last,  let  us  hope,  solved  the  theory  of  "averages," 
the  brilliant  Henry  T.  Buckle. 

Not  far  off  is  the  Christian  cemetery.  "  Who 
is  buried  here?"  I  asked  our  thick-witted  guide. 

"Oh,  anybody ,"  he  replied,  cheerfully,  "Greeks, 
French,  Italians,  anybody  you  like ;  "  as  if  I  could 
please  myself  by  interring  here  any  one  I  chose. 

Among  the  graves  was  a  group  of  women,  hair 
disheveled  and  garments  loosened  in  the  abandon 
of  mourning,  seated  about  a  rough  coffin  open  its 
entire  length.  In  it  lay  the  body  of  a  young  man 


284  OTHER   SIGHTS   IN  DAMASCUS 

who  had  been  drowned,  and  recovered  from  the 
water  after  three  days.  The  women  lifted  up  his 
dead  hands,  let  them  drop  heavily,  and  then  wailed 
and  howled,  throwing  themselves  into  attitudes  of 
the  most  passionate  grief.  It  was  a  piteous  sight, 
there  under  the  open  sky,  in  the  presence  of  an 
unsympathizing  crowd  of  spectators. 

Returning,  we  went  round  by  the  large  Moslem 
cemetery,  situated  at  the  southwest  corner  of  the 
city.  It  is,  like  all  Moslem  burying-grounds,  a 
melancholy  spectacle,  —  a  mass  of  small  white- 
washed mounds  of  mud  or  brick,  with  an  inscribed 
headstone,  —  but  here  rest  some  of  the  most  fa- 
mous men  and  women  of  Moslem  history.  Here  is 
the  grave  of  Ibn'  Asaker,  the  historian  of  Damas- 
cus ;  here  rests  the  fierce  Moawyeh,  the  founder  of 
the  dynasty  of  the  Omeiyades ;  and  here  are  buried 
three  of  the  wives  of  Mohammed,  and  Fatimeh,  his 
granddaughter,  the  child  of  Ali,  whose  place  of 
sepulture  no  man  knows.  Upon  nearly  every  tomb 
is  a  hollow  for  water,  and  in  it  is  a  sprig  of  myrtle, 
which  is  renewed  every  Friday  by  the  women  who 
come  here  to  mourn  and  to  gossip. 

Much  of  the  traveler's  time,  and  perhaps  the 
most  enjoyable  part  of  it,  in  Damascus,  is  spent 
in  the  bazaars,  cheapening  scarfs  and  rugs  and  the 
various  silken  products  of  Syrian  and  Persian 
looms,  picking  over  dishes  of  antique  coins,  taking 
impressions  of  intaglios,  hunting  for  curious  amu- 
lets, and  searching  for  the  quaintest  and  most  bril- 
liant Saracenic  tiles.  The  quest  of  the  antique  is 
always  exciting,  and  the  inexperienced  is  ever  hope- 


THE   BAZAARS  285 

f  ul  that  he  will  find  a  gem  of  value  in  a  heap  of 
rubbish ;  this  hope  never  abandons  the  most  blase 
tourist,  though  in  time  lie  comes  to  understand 
that  the  sharp-nosed  Jew,  or  the  oily  Armenian, 
or  the  respectable  Turk,  who  spreads  his  delusive 
wares  before  him,  knows  quite  as  well  as  the  seeker 
the  value  of  any  bit  of  antiquity,  not  only  in  Da- 
mascus, but  in  Constantinople,  Paris,  and  London, 
and  is  an  adept  in  all  the  counterfeits  and  imposi- 
tions of  the  Orient. 

The  bazaars  of  the  antique,  of  old  armor,  an- 
cient brasses,  and  of  curiosities  generally,  and  even 
of  the  silver  and  gold  smiths,  are  disappointing 
after  Cairo ;  they  are  generally  full  of  rubbish  from 
which  the  choice  things  seem  to  have  been  culled; 
indeed,  the  rage  for  antiquities  is  now  so  great 
that  sharp  buyers  from  Europe  range  all  the  Ori- 
ent, and  leave  little  for  the  innocent  and  hopeful 
tourist,  who  is  aghast  at  the  prices  demanded,  and 
usually  finds  himself  a  victim  of  his  own  cleverness 
when  he  pays  for  any  article  only  a  fourth  of  the 
price  at  first  asked. 

The  silk  bazaars  of  Damascus  still  preserve, 
however,  a  sort  of  preeminence  of  opportunity, 
although  they  are  largely  supplied  by  the  fabrics 
manufactured  at  Beyrout  and  in  other  Syrian 
towns.  Certainly  no  place  is  more  tempting  than 
one  of  the  silk  khans,  —  gloomy  old  courts,  in  the 
galleries  of  which  you  find  little  apartments  stuffed 
full  of  the  seductions  of  Eastern  looms.  For  my- 
self, I  confess  to  the  fascination  of  those  stuffs  of 
brilliant  dyes,  shot  with  threads  of  gold  and  of 


286  OTHER   SIGHTS   IN   DAMASCUS 

silver.  I  know  a  tall,  oily-tongued  Armenian, 
who  has  a  little  chamber  full  of  shelves,  from  which 
he  takes  down  one  rich  scarf  after  another,  unfolds 
it,  shakes  out  its  shining  hues,  and  throws  it  on 
the  heap,  until  the  room  is  littered  with  gorgeous 
stuffs.  He  himself  is  clad  in  silk  attire ;  he  is  tall, 
suave,  insinuating,  grave,  and  overwhelmingly 
condescending.  I  can  see  him  now,  when  I  ques- 
tion the  value  put  upon  a  certain  article  which  I 
hold  in  my  hand  and  no  doubt  betray  my  admira- 
tion of  in  my  eyes,  —  I  can  see  him  now  throw  back 
his  head,  half  close  his  Eastern  eyes,  and  exclaim, 
as  if  he  had  hot  pudding  in  his  mouth,  "Thot  is 
ther  larster  price." 

I  can  see  Abd-el-Atti  now,  when  we  had  made 
up  a  package  of  scarfs,  and  offered  a  certain  sum 
for  the  lot,  which  the  sleek  and  polite  trader  re- 
fused, with  his  eternal,  "Thot  is  ther  larster  price," 
sling  the  articles  about  the  room,  and  depart  in 
rage.  And  I  can  see  the  Armenian  bow  us  into 
the  corridor  with  the  same  sweet  courtesy,  knowing 
very  well  that  the  trade  is  only  just  begun ;  that 
it  is,  in  fact,  under  good  headway ;  that  the  Arab 
will  return,  that  he  will  yield  a  little  from  the 
"larster  price,"  and  that  we  shall  go  away  loaded 
with  his  wares,  leaving  him  ruined  by  the  transac- 
tion, but  proud  to  be  our  friend. 

Our  experience  in  purchasing  old  Saracenic  and 
Persian  tiles  is  perhaps  worth  relating  as  an  illus- 
tration of  the  character  of  the  traders  of  Damas- 
cus. Tiles  were  plenty  enough,  for  several  ancient 
houses  had  recently  been  torn  down  and  the  dealers 


BARGAINING   FOR   TILES  287 

continually  acquire  them  from  ruined  mosques  or 
those  that  are  undergoing  repairs.  The  dragoman 
found  several  lots  in  private  houses,  and  made  a 
bargain  for  a  certain  number  at  two  francs  and  a 
half  each ;  and  when  the  bargain  was  made,  I  spent 
half  a  day  in  selecting  the  specimens  we  desired. 

The  next  morning,  before  breakfast,  we  went  to 
make  sure  that  the  lots  we  had  bought  would  be 
at  once  packed  and  shipped.  But  a  change  had 
taken  place  in  twelve  hours.  There  was  an  Eng- 
lishman in  town  who  was  also  buying  tiles;  this 
produced  a  fever  in  the  market;  an  impression 
went  abroad  that  there  was  a  fortune  to  be  made  in 
tiles,  and  we  found  that  our  bargain  was  entirely 
ignored.  The  owners  supposed  that  the  tiles  we 
had  selected  must  have  some  special  value;  and 
they  demanded  for  the  thirty-eight  which  we  had 
chosen  —  agreeing  to  pay  for  them  two  francs  and 
a  half  apiece  —  thirty  pounds.  In  the  house  where 
we  had  laid  aside  seventy -three  others  at  the  same 
price,  not  a  tile  was  to  be  discovered;  the  old 
woman  who  showed  us  the  vacant  chamber  said 
she  knew  not  what  had  become  of  them,  but  she 
believed  they  had  been  sold  to  an  Englishman. 

We  returned  to  the  house  first  mentioned,  re- 
solved to  devote  the  day  if  necessary  to  the  extrac- 
tion of  the  desired  tiles  from  the  grip  of  their  own- 
ers. The  contest  began  about  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning ;  it  was  not  finished  till  three  in  the  after- 
noon, and  it  was  maintained  on  our  side  with  some 
disadvantage,  the  only  nutriment  that  sustained  us 
being  a  cup  of  tea  which  we  drank  very  early  in 


288  OTHER   SIGHTS   IN   DAMASCUS 

the  morning.  The  scene  of  the  bargain  was  the 
paved  court  of  the  house,  in  which  there  was  a 
fountain  and  a  lemon-tree,  and  some  rose-trees 
trained  on  espaliers  along  the  walls.  The  tempt- 
ing enameled  tiles  were  piled  up  at  one  side  of  the 
court  and  spread  out  in  rows  in  the  lewan,  —  the 
open  recess  where  guests  are  usually  received. 
The  owners  were  two  Greeks,  brothers-in-law, 
polite,  cunning,  sharp,  the  one  inflexible,  the  other 
yielding,  —  a  combination  against  which  it  is  al- 
most impossible  to  trade  with  safety,  for  the  yield- 
ing one  constantly  allures  you  into  the  grip  of  the 
inflexible.  The  women  of  the  establishment, 
comely  Greeks,  clattered  about  the  court  on  their 
high  wooden  pattens  for  a  time,  and  at  length  set- 
tled down,  in  an  adjoining  apartment,  to  their 
regular  work  of  embroidering  silken  purses  and 
tobacco-pouches,  taking  time,  however,  for  an  oc- 
casional cigarette  or  a  pull  at  a  narghileh,  and,  in 
a  constant  chatter,  keeping  a  lively  eye  upon  the 
trade  going  on  in  the  court.  The  handsome  chil- 
dren added  not  a  little  to  the  liveliness  of  the 
scene,  and  their  pranks  served  to  soften  the  as- 
perities of  the  encounter;  although  I  could  not 
discover,  after  repeated  experiments,  that  any  af- 
fection lavished  upon  the  children  lowered  the  price 
of  the  tiles.  The  Greek  does  not  let  sentiment 
interfere  with  business,  and  he  is  much  more  diffi- 
cult to  deal  with  than  an  Arab,  who  occasionally 
has  impulses. 

Each  tile  was  the  subject  of  a  separate  bargain 
and   conflict.     The   dicker   went   on    in   Arabic, 


WILY   GREEKS  289 

Greek,  broken  English,  and  dislocated  French, 
and  was  participated  in  not  only  by  the  parties 
most  concerned,  but  by  the  young  Greek  guide 
and  by  the  donkey-boys.  Abd-el-Atti  exhibited 
all  the  qualities  of  his  generalship.  He  was  hu- 
morous, engaging,  astonished,  indignant,  serious, 
playful,  threatening,  indifferent.  Beaten  on  one 
grouping  of  specimens,  he  made  instantly  a  new 
combination ;  more  than  once  the  transaction  was 
abruptly  broken  off  in  mutual  rage,  obstinacy,  and 
recriminations;  and  it  was  set  going  again  by  a 
timely  jocularity  or  a  seeming  concession.  I  can 
see  now  the  soft  Greek  take  up  a  tile  which  had 
painted  on  it  some  quaint  figure  or  some  lovely 
flower,  dip  it  in  the  fountain  to  bring  out  its  bril- 
liant color,  and  then  put  it  in  the  sun  for  our  ad- 
miration; and  I  can  see  the  dragoman  shake  his 
head  in  slow  depreciation,  and  push  it  one  side, 
when  that  tile  was  the  one  we  had  resolved  to  pos- 
sess of  all  others,  and  was  the  undeclared  centre  of 
contest  in  all  the  combinations  for  an  hour  there- 
after. 

When  the  day  was  two  thirds  spent  we  had 
purchased  one  hundred  tiles,  jealously  watched 
the  packing  of  each  one,  and  seen  the  boxes  nailed 
and  corded.  We  could  not  have  been  more  ex- 
hausted if  we  had  undergone  an  examination  for  a 
doctorate  of  law  in  a  German  university.  Two 
boxes,  weighing  two  hundred  pounds  each,  were 
hoisted  upon  the  backs  of  mules  and  sent  to  the 
French  company's  station ;  there  does  not  appear 
to  be  a  dray  or  a  burden-cart  in  Damascus;  all 


290  OTHER   SIGHTS   IN   DAMASCUS 

freight  is  carried  upon  the  back  of  a  mule  or  a 
horse,  even  long  logs  and  whole  trunks  of  trees. 

When  this  transaction  was  finished,  our  Greek 
guide,  who  had  heard  me  ask  the  master  of  the 
house  for  brass  trays,  told  me  that  a  fellow  whom 
1  had  noticed  hanging  about  there  all  the  morning 
had  some  trays  to  show  me ;  in  fact,  he  had  at  his 
house  "seventeen  trays."  I  thought  this  a  rich 
find,  for  the  beautiful  antique  brasses  of  Persia  are 
becoming  rare  even  in  Damascus;  and,  tired  as 
we  were,  we  rode  across  the  city  for  a  mile  to  a 
secluded  private  house,  and  were  shown  into  an 
upper  chamber.  What  was  our  surprise  to  find 
spread  out  there  the  same  "  seventy -three  "  tiles 
that  we  had  purchased  the  day  before,  and  which 
had  been  whisked  away  from  us.  By  "seventeen 
tray, "the  guide  meant  "seventy -three."  We  told 
the  honest  owner  that  he  was  too  late ;  we  had  al- 
ready tiles  enough  to  cover  his  tomb. 


:     V 


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